Fear is a Chemical Defect
by GirlatTheRockShow182
Summary: Moriarty is back. Or is he? As London faces the return of its most dangerous criminal, Sherlock must face his own demons and fight to protect the ones he loves as his whole world begins to crash around him. With friends and foes around every corner who can Sherlock trust and who wants to ensure his downfall? The Game is on...
1. Chapter 1

**The origins of this has been on my laptop since series 3 finished so I figured now that I have the whole summer ahead of me it was as good a time as any to start writing it properly. This will be my take on series 4 and takes place from about an hour after series 3 left off. I hope you like it. :) **

**Standard disclaimer.**

"I don't understand," said John taking off his coat as he followed Sherlock into the flat.

"Magnussen was right," spoke Sherlock as he sat down at his desk and booted up one of his many laptops.

John cocked an eyebrow. "About what?"

Sherlock looked up towards John, "you really should have that on a t-shirt."

John scowled, not even an hour ago he thought he had said goodbye to Sherlock for good and now he was back in Baker Street and still being an obnoxious bastard.

"Do you really think it's him though?" asked Mary plopping herself down in John's old armchair. "He did shoot his brains out after all."

John walked towards the window, "and Sherlock Holmes jumped from St. Bart's hospital and I took his rather non-existent pulse as he lay with his head smashed in on the pavement... I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Magnussen walked in right now and pissed in the fireplace."

Sherlock gave John a warning look but turned his attention back to his laptop. "Once you have ruled out the impossible, whatever remains no matter how improbable must be true," said Sherlock simply which didn't really answer Mary's question.

"So you don't think he's dead then?" she pushed further.

"Improbable... but not impossible," said Sherlock finally.

Mary and John gave each other a look, neither of them was too sure as to what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence Mary finally cleared her throat and stood up. "Well, I better be off then," she said.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "There's no need to leave."

"Oh there is," said Mary. "If you two are going to be going around chasing after dead criminals you hardly want a eight and a half month pregnant walrus plodding on behind you now do you?"

Sherlock's lip threatened to curl upwards into a smile but he regained his composure. "I suppose you going into labour whilst we chase down the seemingly immortal consulting criminal would not be the best plan of action."

"I'll drive you home," said John helping his wife into her coat.

"Oh there's no need, I'll just take a cab," said Mary smiling.

"You sure?" asked John. "It's no trouble really I-

Mary leant up and kissed John on the cheek before whispering to him. "No, stay with him. He needs you."

John glanced at Sherlock before turning his attention back to his wife. "Okay," he said softly before kissing her goodbye.

Mary smiled and went towards the door before turning around and saying. "Oh and Sherlock? Please stay away from tall buildings this time, okay?"

Sherlock scoffed. "No promises."

Mary simply grinned before walking out the door and leaving the men to it.

John watched as he wife made her way slowly down the stairs and only when she was out of sight did he turn his attention back to Sherlock.

"Are you okay?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I'm always okay," said Sherlock dismissively.

John grimaced; he wasn't buying it for a second. "It is okay to tell me how you feel Sherlock."

Sherlock glanced up and studied John for a moment before frowning again. "I'm fine," he said in a definite tone.

John sighed through his nose, there was no point trying to talk to Sherlock when he was acting like this. "So then," he began trying to change the subject slightly. "Why now? Why wait three years and come back now?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "And I don't like not knowing."

John opened his mouth to say something but before he could respond Mycroft entered the room talking on his mobile. He muttered a few choice words under his breath before hanging up and slamming the phone into his pocket. "It would seem we are unable to trace the origins of the video feed," he admitted bitterly.

Sherlock had begun to type away something on his laptop and didn't look up to acknowledge Mycroft. "The government unable to do something? Well there's something that doesn't happen everyday," he said in a mocking tone.

Mycroft's grip on his umbrella tightened at his brother's remark but he gave no other indication the words had effected him. "Well little brother," Mycroft began venomously. "It's beginning to look like you didn't do such a great job after all clearing out Moriarty's network."

Sherlock simply rolled his eyes. "Sometimes the weeds grow back Mycroft."

"Only when they haven't been properly dealt with brother mine."

Sherlock stood up to face his brother and John looked away nervously. Although he's been a friend of Sherlock for years now the tension between the Holmes brothers still made him feel nauseous. He began to wish Mary hadn't left him here alone... He almost laughed at the idea of wanting an assassin in the room to clear the tension.

"You sent me to dismantle Moriarty's global network of criminals. Two years Mycroft, for two years I lied, cheated and conned my way into each and every one of Moriarty's connections before breaking them down. I did my work brother dear. His network was as dead as he was."

"Well after this afternoon, your word doesn't exactly fill me with confidence Sherlock," said Mycroft.

Sherlock simply scoffed and retook his seat at his laptop. "Moriarty is dead, Mycroft."

"For two years so was Sherlock Holmes," replied Mycroft taking his mobile from his pocket again. "Excuse me," said the older Holmes brother as he exited the room talking on his phone once again. Sherlock watched as his brother left the room and sighed heavily as Mycroft closed the door behind him.

John focused on the closed door for a moment before turning his attention back to Sherlock who was running his hands through his hair. "Are you alright?" he asked uncertainly.

"I'm always alright," answered Sherlock dismissively regaining his composure and beginning to type away at his laptop again.

John furrowed his brow and stared at his friend. Admittedly he was in no way as good at deductions as Sherlock but he knew one thing for sure. Sherlock was definitely not alright.

"You know, you never told me exactly what it was you did when you were dead," said John as he went to sit down in his chair.

Sherlock sighed. "Well you didn't elaborate about what you had gotten up to either."

John opened his mouth to respond but Sherlock's phone suddenly buzzed. Sherlock quickly took the phone from his pocket and looked at the message and bit his lip before tossing the phone towards John.

_Ready to play? _

_JM_

"Told you so," said Sherlock.

John just raised an eyebrow and gave Sherlock a confused look.

Sherlock smirked knowingly. "The game, John," began Sherlock, "is never over."

John's jaw dropped, the criminal mastermind that had almost destroyed everything Sherlock was, turned all of England against him and caused his best friend to fake his death for two years was seemingly back again and Sherlock thought it was a game? Fuck... Sherlock Holmes never failed to surprise him.

Sherlock's phone buzzed in John's hand. John glanced down at the phone. "Sherlock another text has come through."

Sherlock snatched the phone from John and opened the message; it was a picture message of a large room with long tables. Sherlock furrowed his brow. He knew this room... it was... it was...

Sherlock showed John the photo as he went to enter his Mind Palace to remember where and what the room was.

"Hey," said John. "Isn't this the room you confronted that creepy cabbie in from A Study In Pink?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. "Of course!" Sherlock stood up quickly and picked his scarf up from the couch before wrapping it around his neck and putting his coat on quickly. "Come on, we need to head down there now."

Sherlock tore open the door and ran straight into Mycroft who cut Sherlock an angered look. "Excuse me a moment," said the older Holmes brother to whomever he was talking to on the phone. "Sherlock where are you going?"

Sherlock simply thundered down the stairs and ignored his brother. "Sherlock!" snapped Mycroft as John slipped past him and followed the consulting detective down the stairs.

"London is under serious threat and you're just going to run off and not inform me of where you're going?"

Sherlock stopped at the bottom of the stairs and tilted his head upwards to look at Mycroft. "Last time London's terror alert was critical we played Operation, don't act surprised Mycroft. The emotion doesn't suit you."

Mycroft bit his lip. "Just... just be careful okay?"

Both John and Sherlock stared up at Mycroft and Sherlock was reminded of what his older brother had told him on Christmas Day, for some reason Sherlock Holmes the king of comebacks the man who would outlive God trying to get the last word was left speechless...

John licked his lip nervously and walked towards the door, the Holmes brothers were yet to break eye contact however. Finally Sherlock simply nodded, "you have my word, Mycroft," he said before following John and walking out on to Baker Street.

Sherlock wrapped his coat around himself as the cold January air hit him. He walked out to the edge of the pavement and hailed a cab as John closed the door or 221 Baker Street.

"That was odd," said John as Sherlock cursed as a taxi drove straight by him, ignoring him.

"What was?"

"Mycroft, telling you to be careful."

"A family member telling his sibling to be vigilant in possible dangerous times is hardly out of the ordinary."

"It is if it's the Holmes family," muttered John.

Sherlock smiled as he finally managed to get the attention of a taxi driver who pulled up beside them. "Frankly John I have greater things on my mind then misplaced sentiment from my brother."

Sherlock hopped into the cab and gave the address to the cabbie as John exhaled loudly before jumping into the car himself. "It's just weird is all," concluded John unwilling to drop the topic. "It's just... well Mycroft wouldn't say that unless he really did think you were in danger now would he?"

Sherlock had been busily typing away on his phone but he glanced up at John. "A man who I personally seen kill himself has seemingly returned to London and I spent two years tearing down everything he had spent his entire life building up and perfecting... If I were him, I'd be quite enraged... of course I am in danger John, and frankly so are you and Mary, the baby, Molly, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and everyone in my life who has ever meant anything to me. This isn't going to be like anything we've ever faced before John, this time the odds are higher and the game is more perilous and Mycroft knows that. We're going to have to remain vigilant."

Sherlock broke the eye contact with John and turned his attention back to his mobile.

"Sherlock..." John began but he was suddenly not sure of what to say.

"If you want to leave I wouldn't blame you," said Sherlock. "This time the game might not end with my death being quite so fake so if you want to go... I, I wouldn't hold it against you. You have a family to think about."

John looked out the window at the busy London high street and took a deep breath before responding. "I'm not leaving you Sherlock," he finally said simply. "Not again, not now. The last time I left you to face Moriarty on your own... well, we both know what happened. I am not abandoning you again."

Sherlock looked up again and narrowed his eyes. "But Mary-

"My wife is an Ex-assassin, I think she is capable of taking care of herself don't you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it and simply smiled. "Thank you," he said before once again turning his attention back to his phone. John smiled weakly at his friend, surely this would turn out okay right? Sherlock had beaten Moriarty before so what was different this time? John took another deep breath and looked out the window once more and thought that if Moriarty was still alive, if he had anything to do about it, he wouldn't be amongst the living for much longer.

**Leaving it here for now! Please review/comment! 'Til next time... toodles :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Thank you so so so so much for all the lovely reviews you left on the previous chapter! It really meant a lot to me :) I now present you with chapter 2, I had a bit of trouble with this chapter but I hope you like it! I'll update again as soon as I can!**

**Standard Disclaimer.**

The cabbie pulled up outside the school where almost five years ago, had it really been that long ago? John had shot the cabbie in order to save Sherlock's life. Sherlock glanced up at the building as his mind flashed back to that day and he chewed on his lip before sighing. "Come on then," he said walking towards the building to the right and making a move to push open the door.

John felt a tad nervous. "Do you think we should tell Lestrade or someone where we are?"

"No need."

"Why?"

"I already told him," said Sherlock turning back and flashing John a smile.

John raised an eyebrow. "You actually contacted the police? You must be worried."

Sherlock's smile faded momentarily as he continued onwards towards the room he had confronted the murderous cabbie in all those years ago.

The duo walked into the room and scanned the place for anything unusual. Sherlock studied the table he had sat with the cabbie at and grimaced, as he noticed nothing abnormal. John scanned the floor and...

"Sherlock."

Sherlock glanced over to John who was pointing towards floor beside him where a small envelope lay. Sherlock guessed it must have been the exact spot the cabbie had died.

Sherlock bent over and snatched the envelope. He raised it up to the light and deciding there was nothing dangerous inside it, he it tore it open. Inside the envelope was a small tape player, Sherlock sighed through his nose as he examined it before pressing play.

There was a cracking static sound before a heavily edited voice echoed in the room. "Hello again Sherlock, did you miss me? I thought it would be nice of me to give you a message here, in the room you first heard my name. How have you been? Last I've heard you'd been shot by your pet's wifey... funny that."

Sherlock unconsciously ran his hand across the scar on his torso as the voice on the player paused. A pang of guilt shot John in the stomach as he noticed his friend wince at the anonymous voice's taunts.

"This time Sherl, I think we should play a more elaborate game, don't you? Somewhere in this room there is a clue that will lead you to the next level in our game... I'm afraid that's the only hint you'll get from me today though... Have fun Mr. Holmes... Oh and Sherlock? If you don't solve the first part of our little game by the end of today then someone very... close to you will pay for your tardiness. Toodles Babe."

The tape cut to static and Sherlock sighed and turned off the player angrily before burying it in his coat pocket. "Ever feel like you're repeating yourself John?" he asked turning around and allowing his coat to billow out around him. "He's taking us back to the start... whoever he is, this isn't Moriarty but he is trying hard to convince me that he is."

John pursed his lips. He wasn't sure of what to say, what was there to say? "Well, we're not going to find the clue just standing here are we?" he finally said.

Sherlock nodded almost sadly before saying "yeah... come on."

The consulting detective jumped down onto the floor and began to examine the floorboards checking if any of them moved or could in fact be concealing something.

John watched as his friend crawled under the tables searching for something... anything that might point them in the right direction. John sighed and began looking through the cabinets in the corner of the room. Sherlock wasn't okay. John knew that. The consulting detective was good at hiding his emotions, at feigning normalcy but the pain was always there if you knew where to look. John could see the pain and fear in Sherlock's eyes. The same fear that was there the day they'd gone to Appledore. John knew Sherlock wasn't okay; the detective hadn't been okay since he'd put a bullet through Magnussen's head. Sherlock was a lot of things but he wasn't a killer and shooting Magnussen had taken more out of the detective than the man would ever admit...

"It could work you know," said Sherlock suddenly breaking John out of his trance.

John shut a cabinet door and turned around to see Sherlock crawl under another table. "What could work?" he asked confused.

"Sherlock as a girl's name," said the detective looking towards John and flashing a smile. "You could call her Sherly maybe? Or Sherl... It'd work."

John smiled ruefully at his friend and began to wonder if the man had somehow learned how to read thoughts and was trying to change the subject to a light note on conversation. "Again," said John. "We're not naming our daughter after you."

Sherlock blew a raspberry. "Spoilsport," he said simply taking out his magnifying glass and checking something he'd found on the floor.

John shook his head and took a deep breath. "How am I supposed to do it Sherlock?" he asked vaguely.

Sherlock made a disgruntled noise as whatever he'd been studying on the floor turned out to be nothing. "Do what?" he asked as he returned the magnifying glass to his pocket in one swift motion.

John leaned back on one of the radiators. "Bring up a child in a world where people like James Moriarty exist."

Sherlock stiffened and made a move to stand only to hit his head gracelessly on the desk he was kneeling under. "Oof," he grumbled and he crawled out from under the table rubbing his head. "I might just have broken the gable end of my mind palace," said the detective as he checked to see whether he was bleeding.

"Sherlock," said John seriously. "Not a time for jokes, okay?"

Sherlock eyed John and stopped fussing about his head. "James Moriarty is dead John," he said simply.

"And so were you but I'm talking to you right now," retaliated John. "And even if Moriarty is dead... it's never going to stop is it? People like Magnussen or whoever is doing this to us now," said John gesturing around the room. "Well they all still exist... How am I expected to bring up a child in a world like this?"

Sherlock pursed his lips and began to scuff his shoe off the floor. "Evil will always exist John and it will always be a formidable opponent," he said simply. "But that does not mean we have bow out and let it win."

John opened his mouth to say something but closed it again realising he wasn't entirely sure about what to say.

"I made a vow to protect you and Mary and your child and I stand by it," said Sherlock. "I am not prepared to go back on my wor-

Before Sherlock could finish his sentence the floorboard he'd been kicking shifted and slipped across the floor slightly. Sherlock instantly hunched down and removed the board completely. It revealed a hole in the floor and another envelope.

Sherlock pulled the envelope from beneath the floor and examined it under the light from the window. The detective grimaced as the envelope left a slimy residue on his gloves. Sherlock furrowed his brow and smelled his hand; it didn't smell off to him. He licked some of the residue off his glove and scrunched his face. It tasted sour but then again he doubted the space under the floorboards had been clean.

"Did you seriously just put something you found under a floorboard in your mouth? Something that was left by someone who has a personal vendetta against you" asked John.

"Shut up," said Sherlock dismissively as he began to tear open the envelope.

John scoffed and said under his breath. "Here's me freaking out about bringing up a child when I've had one for five years..."

Sherlock cut John a warning look. "That's quite enough now...Dad."

John simply shook his head. "So what's in the envelope then?"

Sherlock delved into the envelope and pulled out something John had hoped he'd seen the last of, an iPhone in a pink case...

"Again?" John asked. "Another replica of the Pink Lady's phone?"

"Seems like it," said Sherlock. "Although this one appears to be water damaged, it won't turn on and it's coated in the same substance the envelope was bathed in."

"What is it?" asked John as he took a few steps forward and took the envelope from Sherlock.

"I'm not sure," said Sherlock as he continued to toss the saturated phone around in his hand. "But I'll take a trip down to Bart's and use Molly's equipment to find out. Come on father dear we'll got a mystery to solve!"

Sherlock turned and bounded from the room his long coat flowing out behind him.

"Enough with the dad comments already," said John chasing after the younger man.

Sherlock turned and his coat swung around him making a swishing sound. "What are you going to do? Ground me?"

John scoffed. "You're unbelievable," he said.

Sherlock smiled smugly and continued to bound down the stairs taking them two at a time. "Thank you," he said.

"That wasn't a compliment," said John taking the stairs less boisterously.

"Yes it was," said Sherlock as he finally reached the ground floor.

John chuckled and stopped on the stairs. "How could such a kind and considerate man like you have enemies?" he asked sarcastically.

Sherlock reached the door but waited for John before existing the college. "There's some mysteries even I can't solve," said Sherlock with a small smile.

John shook his head as he walked through the door Sherlock held open for him. "Well let's make sure this case isn't one of them eh?" said John taking up a serious tone once more.

Sherlock's smile faltered and he nodded before closed the door firmly behind him. "The Game is on!"

**Leaving off here for now, as always feel free to leave reviews/comments. Thank you for reading! Toodles :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello guys! Miss me? ;) I had a major freak out because of the #221Back thing on Twitter! A special and series 4 all going to be filmed next year? asdffgghjjk SO EXCITED! xD Well, in the meantime I hope you enjoy the next chapter of my little fic!**

**Standard Disclaimer.**

Sherlock and John had to walk for a few minutes before they'd be able to hail a cab on the main street. John only had to take one look at Sherlock and knew the man was too deep in his own thoughts to continue the same lighthearted conversation they'd had in the college so he remained silent. The quietness between the men was only broken when Sherlock's phone beeped.

The detective took his phone from his pocket and studied it for a moment.

"It's not another message from... him?" asked John not sure whether or not to refer to 'him' as Moriarty.

"Nope," said Sherlock popping the 'p' before quickly typing back a reply and returning the phone to his pocket. "Just Molly."

"Molly?" asked John.

"Yes Molly Hooper," said Sherlock in a slightly impatient tone. "We are about to go to her lab to use her equipment, it'd be rude to turn up unannounced."

John stopped walking. "Oh yeah because you never turn up unannounced."

Sherlock scoffed. "I may have learned my lesson from past emmm... experiences," he said as another text message came through onto his phone.

John shook his head remembering the night the not-so-dead consulting detective had returned. He looked up to say something to Sherlock and caught his friend smiling at the text he'd received from Molly. John smiled and looked down and chose not to say anything.

"Have you been talking to Molly much?" asked John.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow as he typed back a reply to Molly's message. He was taken aback by John's question. "Not much," he said truthfully, pocketing the phone once more. "Just checking on her. Moriarty overlooked her last time, she played a fundamental part in assuring my death, if there is anyone in danger, now that he, or at least someone close to Moriarty is back well... I'd say she'd be high on their hit list."

John hadn't really considered this but it seemed obvious as soon as Sherlock said it. Molly played an important part in Sherlock's survival and she'd been completely disregarded last time it made sense that she would be under threat now.

"I'm not stupid you know," said John.

Another text came through on Sherlock's phone and the detective took it from his pocket. "That's debatable," he said rudely.

John took a deep breath and resisted the urge to punch the detective. "It's obvious you... care about her."

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face the other man. "What are you implying?"

John smirked as he realised he got one over on Sherlock. "Now who's the stupid one?" he asked.

Sherlock pouted like a child and returned to his phone. "We should be able to get a taxi from here," he said changing the subject.

John managed to control himself and not laugh.

"Today was the first time I'd talked to her since... since the day you disrupted me in the drug's den," said Sherlock defensively.

"I'm not suggesting anything," said John.

Sherlock bit his lip and sighed. "You've been insufferable since you got married."

John laughed as another text came through to Sherlock's phone. "I'll hail a cab while you text your girlfriend back," he sneered.

Sherlock scowled. "Molly Hooper is not my girl- Sherlock stopped as he read the text. It wasn't from Molly...

_Tick tock Sherlock, you're running out of time... If you want to save your friend every second... counts._

_- JM. _

John turned when he realised Sherlock was no longer following him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Sherlock chewed on his lip and looked up at John. He opened his mouth to tell him about the message but stopped himself. Sherlock properly looked at John. He was tired; he had gotten very little sleep last night partly because he'd been worried about the exile of his friend but mostly because Mary's due date was near. John had been through a lot recently. Magnussen, the revelations about Mary's past... Sherlock's shooting, the baby... John had a life totally separate to Sherlock now, a family to think about. The days of running around chasing criminals were coming to an end. Sherlock knew that, he wasn't stupid. The two years he'd been away from John had changed their friendship in ways that could not be erased. Yes they were still friends, but it was different now and it was about to change again. Sherlock couldn't afford to hurt John again, not now, not when he was about to become a father... He'd hurt him enough already. Even a sociopath could see that.

"Sherlock?" asked John taking a step back towards his friend. "What's wrong?"

Sherlock tried to shake the negativity from his head and put on a fake smile. "Nothing," he lied walking onwards slightly pushing past John. "We can't afford to waste much more time, come on."

John sighed as he watched his friend wrap his coat around himself and walk onwards.

Sherlock's phone buzzed again...

_Pushing him away won't help save him... _

_- JM_

Sherlock stopped again and looked around. So somebody was watching him... Hardly a surprise he guessed. This case was already getting on his nerves.

"Sherlock are yo- began John but the detective cut over him.

"If you ask me one more time if I am okay John I swear I will not be held responsible for my actions!" Sherlock barked. "I. AM. FINE!"

Sherlock stormed off ahead and hailed a taxi. He regretted snapping at John but he couldn't apologise...

John shook his head at his friend. Whenever he thought he was getting somewhere with the detective, Sherlock always pushed him away. Always.

"Pushing me away won't work Sherlock," said John walking towards Sherlock as the taller man jumped into the back of the taxi. Sherlock scooted over to the very far side of the taxi.

"Bart's Hospital," Sherlock told the cabbie ignoring John.

It began to rain and Sherlock watched as the water droplets trailed down the window.

John made a fist and dug his nails into the palm of his hand. "You're such a self obsessed martyr prick at times you know that right?" said John looking towards his friend.

Sherlock made no indication that he'd heard what John had said.

"I mean," said John. "It's okay for you to throw yourself off a building to save your friends or risk your life on a daily basis or bloody shoot someone in the head to help your friends but God forbid your friends ever try to help you out because you always just push us away."

Sherlock looked up from the window towards John. "I've upset you," he said simply.

"That's a good deduction yeah," said John sourly turning and looking out his own window.

Sherlock looked away and sighed. "You've a lot more to lose than I do John," he said finally. "You're going to be a father, you're already a husband. You have people who depend on you. If you died I'd-" Sherlock trailed off.

"Just because my life is getting busier doesn't mean I don't have time for you Sherlock," said John.

Sherlock chewed on his lip. "Yes it does," he said simply.

John stopped for a moment. "Sherlock..."

"You've already had to cope with my death and you were okay... eventually. You got over it, but I... I couldn't cope with yours," said Sherlock. The detective looked away unable to hold eye contact any longer.

John just stared at the detective that was the most emotion he'd gotten out of Sherlock since the Best Man's speech. Sherlock simply didn't do emotions.

"Sherlock-

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'll have to use Molly's equipment in her lab and find out what this substance is on the Pink Lady's phone. I'm pretty sure whatever it is will lead us to the next clue," said Sherlock in a monotone as he returned to his mobile and began typing away furiously again.

John gave his friend a sorrowful smile as he realised that was the end of emotional Sherlock for now. John knew the dangers of being friends with Sherlock Holmes and he had the scars to prove it. He thought back to Mycroft's words from all those year's ago...

_"When you walk with Sherlock Holmes you see the battlefield..."_

Yes John had seen the battlefield; he'd wandered through it many times. And despite what the pompous twat said he wasn't leaving him now. Danger or no danger.

* * *

As the cabbie pulled up outside Bart's, Sherlock threw him a few notes and hopped out of the cab without saying a word. John thanked the cabbie and joined his friend. Just as the friends were about to enter the hospital John heard someone calling his name.

"John!"

The doctor turned to see Mary walking slowly towards him and Sherlock. "What are you doing here?" John asked kissing his wife as she caught up with them.

"It's my last scan before the baby is born remember?" she said smiling.

John cursed under his breath. "I completely forgot," he said. "Sorry Mary."

"Oh it's fine," said Mary breezily.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" asked John.

"No," said Mary. "Not at all, you boys go and solve the mystery. I'm fine really."

John opened his mouth to say something but Sherlock beat him to it.

"No go to her appointment," he said. "I'm better off on my own, really. I think better that way. John would only talk about ordinary things like the weather or football and ruin things."

John furrowed his brow. "Sherl-

"I'll talk to you later," said Sherlock as he dismissively waved the Watsons off and entered the hospital.

John sighed through his nose as he watched Sherlock race off.

"He's really not okay is he?" asked Mary taking her husband's hand in her own.

"No," said John. "No he's not... and he isn't letting me help him."

Mary smiled ruefully and kissed John on the cheek. "He'll come round," she said. "Come on we're going to be late."

John watched as Sherlock disappeared down one of the hallways. He wasn't convinced that Sherlock would be okay... Not this time.

John tightened his hold on his wife's hand. "Come on then Mrs. Watson," he said it what he hoped was a cheerful tone. "Let's see how the two most important girls in my life are doing."

**Think I'll leave it here for now! Next chapter should be up soon... Please review :) Toodles! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guys, time to delve a little further into the story now! I just wanted to thank you all for the lovely reviews and the follows and favourites! It means a lot. I'm taking the plot a little further in this update! I hope you like it, as always feel free to leave a review!**

**The sections in bold italics are scenes in Sherlock's mind palace. **

**Standard Disclaimer.**

A slight tremor ran through Sherlock's hands as he examined the substance under the microscope. He'd managed to scrape all of the gooey liquid from the phone and envelope and had been testing it since he'd left John and Mary outside almost two hours ago. He'd never admit it but the pressure was beginning to get to him and he was no closer to discovering what the substance was.

Molly was working late and was filling out some paperwork and drinking coffee. She'd made a cup for Sherlock but the hot drink had gone untouched and ignored. Molly looked over towards the detective and opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and returned to her paperwork. She was used to Sherlock's bouts of silences but he had been so much more talkative since returning after the fall and it was worrying to see him degenerate back to his moody and quiet ways. Having said that she hadn't heard from Sherlock since the day he'd arrived high as a kite in her morgue. She had of course visited him in the hospital when he was recovering from the gunshot wound but he'd been too groggy on painkillers to remember her and had drifted in and out of consciousness throughout her visit so she didn't mention it. She hadn't visited him again after that; she just couldn't bear to see him as vulnerable as he had been back then, relying on drugs to take the pain away... Molly shuddered and tried to shake the memory away as she took a long sip from her coffee.

Sherlock sighed and Molly looked up at him again. He looked sad, that same sadness she had seen in him the day before he'd jumped from Bart's. The same sadness that was only evident in his face when he thought nobody could see him.

"So," she began awkwardly. "Where's John tonight?"

Sherlock smacked his lips. "He is otherwise preoccupied."

Molly furrowed her brow. "Pardon?"

The corner of Sherlock's lip curled upwards. "He's upstairs with Mary, the final scans before we'll have a little Watson running about."

"Oh," said Molly unable to stop herself from smiling. "That's great."

Sherlock didn't respond. He reached over and picked up a pipette and test tube in order to examine more of the substance he was analysing when his phone began to ring.

He sighed and glanced over at his phone. Unknown number... Great. Sherlock put his phone on loudspeaker...

"Hello Sherlock," spoke a heavily edited voice. "You're taking your time with our little game aren't you? Well... I suppose it's probably a bit too complicated for your simple little mind... Ordinary Sherlock. Those two years away and Mary using your thin frame, as target practice must have killed a few brain cells. Well then take this as your final warning. If you don't solve my little puzzle in an hour than someone you love with suffer... someone who matters... Toodles."

Sherlock clenched his fist while still holding the test tube, which proceeded to shatter in his hand.

"SHERLOCK!" Snapped Molly racing forward. She clutched his arm and brushed the loose pieces of glass from his hand. Sherlock just gave her a confused look and glanced at his bleeding hand, which he had seemingly only noticed just now.

"Oh, I didn't even realise... I must have..." he rambled.

"There's glass imbedded in your hand," said Molly going into full doctor mode. "And you're already losing a lot of blood. You're going to need stitches. Wait here, I'll get the medical kit and supplies."

"No, Molly it's fine really. I-

"No," spoke Molly so forcibly she noticed Sherlock flinch. "No, just let me help you okay? Just, just let me help."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes before admitting defeat. "Okay... er... thank you."

Molly came back a few minutes later sat Sherlock down on a stool beside the sink and began to work on his hand. She sterilised it and worked the shards of glass from his palm and fingers as gently as she could. Sherlock flinched and winced at her movements as she pulled shard after shard from his hand.

"Sherlock?" she asked after wiping a particularly heavy stream of blood running down the detective's thumb. "What did he mean by Mary using you as her target practice?"

Sherlock's jaw dropped and he gave Molly a tired look. "What do you think it means?" he asked answering her question with a question.

Molly looked at Sherlock and studied him for a moment before going back to sewing up his wounds. "Well, it made me think that maybe... just maybe she was the one who... well, who...

"Shot me?" Sherlock added finishing for her.

Molly nodded. Sherlock merely smiled weakly but didn't answer. " You missed a piece in my index finger," he said changing the subject back to his injury.

Molly continued to stare at him. "She did shoot you didn't she?"

"Not now," Sherlock said quietly. "London is in serious danger and Moriarty's people have just threatened my... my friends, I have more important things on my mind okay?"

"My offer still stands Sherlock," said Molly as she finished stitching up the worst of the cuts and proceeded to begin to wrap a bandage around Sherlock's hand. "If you need anything Sherlock, anything... I'm here to help you okay?"

Sherlock looked up and his eyes met Molly's. "Why are you so nice to me? Why do you care?"

Molly seemed slightly taken aback by Sherlock's question. "You're a good man Sherlock... I know you don't think it, but you are. You can be a bastard... but you have a heart."

"I don't deserve you," he said quietly.

"Everyone deserves someone to be there for them Sherlock" Molly grinned before adding "even a high functioning sociopath."

Sherlock chuckled lightly and leaned up and kissed Molly sweetly on the cheek. He moved to pull away but Molly placed a hand on the back of his head pulling him towards her, her lips met his and she kissed him back, intensely. Sherlock was surprised and flinched but he didn't pull away... this was... not unpleasant. Just as Sherlock was about to embrace the kiss he felt Molly pull away from him.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed. "Sherlock I-I don't know what came over me... I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "No Molly it's fine, really it's fine." Sherlock made a move to step forward towards Molly but she backed away further.

"No, no... I was stupid." She said running her hands through her hair awkwardly. "I'm sorry..." She looked at the clock on the wall behind Sherlock. She laughed a fake laugh. "Oh look at the time it's almost 8pm? Well time flies when you're having fu- I mean working right? I better go."

Sherlock gave Molly a confused look. "Molly-" he began but she spoke over him.

"Keep your hand clean and be careful of infection okay? You should be fine though." She quickly threw on her coat and pulled a hat on over her head. "You know your way out right?" She asked making her way towards the door.

"Molly wait a minute," said Sherlock walking after her.

"No I really have to go," she said sternly. She turned towards Sherlock and her eyes were brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry can we please just pretend that didn't happen?"

"Molly I-

"Good night Sherlock," she said turning quickly and rushing out the door, leaving Sherlock confused and alone.

* * *

Sherlock watched the door shut and could hear Molly's quickstep as she ran down the corridor. What was that? Admittedly he'd known Molly had... feelings for him in the past, before the fall, but she'd never acted on them. Not until now. However what really shocked Sherlock was the fact he hadn't minded when she'd kissed him. In fact... Sherlock shook his head and banished the thoughts from his skull. He didn't have time for this right now...

Sherlock sighed and went back over to what he'd been working on before... well before Molly had distracted him. He scowled as he realised his accident with the test tube had resulted in him contaminating the sample with his blood. "Brilliant," he muttered angrily.

He ran his hands through his hair and winced as he remembered the cuts on his hand. He could feel a degree of rage building up in him and tried to extinguish it. Rage would get him nowhere quickly. He took a deep breath and retreated to his mind palace... Maybe he'd gathered enough from his tests to determine what the samples were...

_**The rooms in his mind palace where dark tonight... It was always dark when he was afra- in doubt. He opened a door to his left and the room was filled with the chemical components of various materials. None of them made sense though... This wasn't a natural component in soil or the air... it was a chemical... a medical chemical... **_

Sherlock took a deep breath, slowed his heart rate and re-entered his mind...

_**He walked through into another room of his mind palace, the room resembled a pharmacy and bottles and boxes of medication filled the many shelves in the room. Medication... drugs... yes that's right... whatever the sample was it was some sort of medication, legal. Most likely prescription medication for some sort of annoying yet non-fatal permanent disease or illness...**_

_**Sherlock began scanning the shelves looking for a possible match to the sample he'd collected when the lights in the palace began to flicker... He could hear a low voice somewhere... singing... mocking... Moriarty... **_

_**Sherlock willed himself to ignore it... Moriarty was only trying to distract him... He'd have to invest time in locking him away in some corner of his mind again. Or better yet deleting him permanently. **_

_**"Delete me Sherlock?" taunted the voice. "Like that's possible." **_

_**Sherlock could feel his heart rate elevating, fear and anger consuming him, perspiration coating his brow.**_

"Shut up..." muttered Sherlock out loud.

_**The voice continued. "Oh don't be quite so rude Mr. Holmes, There's no shutting me up... you know that. I am cancer Mr. Holmes. I am the rash that'll never fade... I tormented you in life and haunt you in death... There's no getting rid of me..." **_

Suddenly Sherlock's eyes snapped open. "Of course," he exclaimed. "A rash, he looked down at the remnants of the sample on the counter. "Eczema medication... the tool you used to kill Carl Powers... the pool."

Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled on his coat and raced out the door. Fifty minutes ago Moriarty had told him he had an hour before someone would suffer... He had to act quickly.

Sherlock managed to hail a cab quickly and gave the cabbie directions to the pool. He tapped his fingers nervously on the window as the cabbie drove though the city. His mind was racing. He knew it was foolish to go to the pool on his own but... at the same time he didn't overly want to put anyone in danger either. He figured he'd have to tell someone... He wrote a text to John but thought better of it and deleted it. He instead sent a brief text to Lestrade and hoped the inspector would have the sense to arrive at the pool but hide in the shadows until given word if he'd be needed.

The cabbie hadn't even stopped before Sherlock threw him the fare and jumped out of the taxi. He raced up the stairs and pulled open the door and ran through the hallway to the pool as a text came through on his phone.

_Running late Sherl, she's dying..._

_JM _

Sherlock pushed forward and barged through the doors to the pool. Over by the deep end of the pool, standing shakily at the pool's edge was Molly. He ankles were shackled together and her hands were clasped together behind her back with handcuffs. If she fell into the water she wouldn't be able to save herself.

"Molly," he breathed worriedly stepping forward, at Sherlock's movement he noticed the red lasers of gunmen taking aim highlight Molly's body. Of course... they weren't going to make it as easy as Sherlock running over to Molly and dragging her away from the water's edge.

"Oh Sherl, I told you you'd regret lying to me," said a voice near the door at the other end of the room. Sherlock looked over to see Janine begin to stroll towards the deep end of the pool. "You're really going to regret using me Mr. Holmes."

"Janine?" Sherlock was confused, hurt... None of this made any sense.

"Surprised Sherl?" she gloated. "Well Jim did used to tell me you were rather slow. Let me explain... The Moriarty criminal network is a bit of a family business these days."

"Fa-family business," Sherlock repeated. He found his attention drawn to Molly who was crying heavily.

"Oh yes," said Janine. " My cousin Jim was always... what's a nice word? Eccentric. You can imagine the Christmas dinners."

"Janine Moriarty," breathed Sherlock.

"I did sign my texts Sherl," she said flashing a devious smile. "JM, Janine Moriarty... You didn't think my dear cousin was texting you from beyond the grave did you?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as Janine reached Molly and she stopped. "A new flame Sherlock?" she sneered fiddling with the collar of Molly's jumper. "How far have you gone with this one?"

Sherlock clenched his fist and felt his nails dig deeply into his palm. "Shut up," he said.

"Oh hit a nerve did I?" said Janine turning her attention back to Molly. "She's a bit of a plain Jane, Sherl, I didn't think she'd be quite your type... Then again, I don't think you even have a type do you?"

Sherlock took a small step forward. "Leave her alone."

"Oh but where's the fun in that?" sneered Janine. The dark haired woman placed a hand on Molly's shoulder. "One more move Sherl and I'll push her in."

Sherlock bit his lip but he nonetheless stopped. "So," he began. "You've been working within Moriarty's network all this time? Let me guess... you worked for Magnussen to gather information on your enemies am I right?"

Janine smiled. "Oh so you're not as dim as Jim thought then."

"Indeed," said Sherlock sarcastically. "So then... what now?"

"Well..." said Janine squeezing Molly's shoulder. "Tonight was just an example."

"Example?"

"Yes," said Janine with a grin. "I just wanted to prove to you Sherl that I am serious and unlike my dear cousin I am not all talk and no game."

With that Janine pushed Molly forcibly into the pool...

**I am going to leave it here. Leave a review if convenient. If inconvenient review anyway. Until next time... toodles! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Long chapter is long. Hey guys! Slightly longer chapter than usual, I was going to post this as two separate chapters but I felt it worked better as a single chapter, so here it is. Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, they really make the writing process a lot easier! **

**Standard Disclaimer.**

"MOLLY!" Sherlock exclaimed racing forward, he tore his coat off roughly before making a running dive into the pool. The detective was aware of the abrupt sounds of gunfire echoing through the room just as he hit the water. He felt a sharp burning sensation in his shoulder and knew he'd been hit, but that was unimportant. Only Molly mattered now...

Molly was writhing around desperately beneath the water. She wouldn't last long acting like that... Sherlock reached her and made an attempt to pull her up to the surface but with the combination of the burning pain in his shoulder and Molly's trashing ensured that the task proved difficult.

Sherlock tried to pull Molly back up again as the water around him was dyed crimson with the blood from his shoulder wound. Molly struggled and she still flailed weakly in his arms until she suddenly went completely still and limp...

"Oh God no," thought Sherlock as he began to feel light-headed from the lack of air... He needed to reach the surface now or they'd both drown...

Sherlock made one last push forward and finally managed to drag himself and Molly to the surface of the pool, he coughed and tried to regularise his breathing as he pulled her awkwardly out of the water. "Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead..." he found himself muttering weakly as he dragged both their bodies out to the tiled floor.

Sherlock dropped his ear to Molly's mouth... She wasn't breathing. Sherlock bit his lip. He was going to have to perform CPR... John had taught him once a few years ago on a particularly rainy night when they'd been bored... But he'd only practised on a cushion back then, this was a real person... this was Molly.

Sherlock began chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth. "Come on Molly," he willed. The time ticked away slowly as Sherlock continued to try and breathe air back into Molly Hooper, he was shaking and the pressure was getting to him... This wasn't working... She was gone... She was...

She coughed. Molly Hooper coughed. Sherlock allowed himself to fall back onto his knees and sighed with relief. "Oh God," he breathed. He was still shaking... If she hadn't have coughed... If she didn't... He didn't know what he would have done...

Sherlock rubbed Molly's back and helped her to cough up any of the water that sat on her lungs. Sherlock glanced around as Molly coughed and noticed only now for the first time that Janine and her shooters were gone. Great... He discovered a set of keys on the floor and made a grab for them and tried them in the locks that constrained Molly. The shackles and the handcuffs fell away easily.

"Are you okay Molly?" he asked once she'd seemed to calm her breathing.

"Not really," she whimpered. "I'm... so cold."

Sherlock scanned the floor and reached over and picked up his abandoned coat and wrapped it around Molly. "Here," he said. "Put this on. I'll call us an ambulance."

Sherlock took his phone from his coat pocket and stood to make the call when he suddenly felt Molly's arm grab his own. "Do-don't le-leave me, Sherlock, please," she spoke tiredly.

Sherlock gave her a confused look; unsure of what to do. He finally allowed himself to fall back down on his knees and took Molly's hand in his own as he made the call.

Molly was drifting out of consciousness as Sherlock talked to the operator on the phone and she could only make out small bits of what he said on the phone. "Female... 35... near death by drowning... resuscitation... shot in the shoulder..."

Molly's eyes flickered open. She hadn't been shot? Then that meant...

"Sherlock you're hurt," she said noticing only now his blooded shoulder. She made a move to sit up but Sherlock pushed her back down gently. "Shhh," he said. "I'm fine, okay? Just rest."

Molly ignored him. She was awake now. She pulled back Sherlock's saturated suit jacket and tried to get a better look at the wound as Sherlock gave the last of the necessary details to the operator before texting Lestrade to come into the building.

"You were lucky," she said investigating the wound. "The bullet just grazed your shoulder. You'll have a nasty scar but nothing too serious."

"Okay," said Sherlock as water dripped down his face from his hair. The corner of his lip curled upwards into a smile. "I hope I don't end up with a limp from a bullet wound to the shoulder."

Molly furrowed her brow and gave Sherlock a look. "How could you possibly develop a limp from getting shot in the shoulder?"

"Ask John," said Sherlock with a smirk.

Molly was about to say something when the door opened once more and Lestrade entered the building followed by two paramedics with a stretcher. Seemingly Lestrade had called for an ambulance to accompany him after Sherlock had texted him earlier.

The paramedics helped Molly up onto the stretcher and had a quick look at Sherlock's shoulder before telling him he'd better hop into the back of the ambulance as well.

"Sherlock what happened here?" Lestrade asked as he and Sherlock followed the paramedics out of the building.

"Well, I was shot at and Molly almost drowned. I thought even Scotland Yard would be capable of concluding that much Gary."

"It's Greg," answered Lestrade gruffly. "Who shot you? Who almost drowned Molly?"

"Shooter remains unknown but as for who almost drowned Molly, do you remember Mary's chief bridesmaid?"

"Janet? Janine?" asked Lestrade.

"Janine," said Sherlock who'd by this time reached the ambulance and hopped into the back of it sitting down with a sigh. "She's Moriarty's cousin apparently and well... I am not exactly her favourite person right now am I?"

"We'll find her Sherlock," said Lestrade as the paramedics prepared to close the ambulance's doors.

"Don't count on it," said Sherlock gruffly as the doors between him and Lestrade shut and the ambulance sped off.

* * *

Sherlock tapped his fingers impatiently on the doctor's table as a nurse stitched up his shoulder. Molly was right the bullet had only grazed him so all he was going to need was a few stitches and painkillers. It could have been worse... Much worse.

Molly and Sherlock had been separated when they reached the hospital and honestly Sherlock just wanted to make sure she was okay and get out of here. His shoulder wound was superficial. He'd be fine. He hated being fussed over like this. Especially when it was his own tardiness that had resulted in Molly almost dying...

"Hello, yes... I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes." spoke a voice from the hallway.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "In here John."

A moment later John Watson entered the room and looked at Sherlock sitting shirtless on the bed as the nurse stitched up his shoulder.

"Wh-what happened?" asked John worried.

"Take a wild guess," said Sherlock a slight touch of venom in his voice as the nurse worked on his shoulder. "Surely tagging around with me for all this time has in some way improved your deduction skills."

John grimaced and took a step forward to look at Sherlock's shoulder. The nurse cut John a warning look.

"It's okay," said John. "I'm a doctor."

"It's just a graze," said Sherlock with a yawn.

"You were lucky," said John looking up at Sherlock.

"I was fast," answered back Sherlock. "Did you hear anything about Molly?"

"They're keeping her in overnight at least, not unusual giving the circumstances. It seems you cracked one or two of her ribs when you were performing CPR."

"Oh," said Sherlock, he dropped his head slightly.

John furrowed his brow. "I'm sure Molly would rather a few cracked ribs over being dead Sherlock."

Sherlock simply nodded as the nurse finished with the stitches. She dressed the wound and wrapped Sherlock's hand in fresh dressing also.

"You're free to go Mr Holmes," said the nurse softly. "But if you feel ill in any way don't hesitate to come back in okay?"

Sherlock gave the nurse a small smile and a thank you before standing up picking up his damp clothes and preparing to leave. As he turned to change he heard John gasp behind him.

"Sherlock what the hell happened your back?"

Sherlock stopped as he remembered the scars from Serbia. John had never seen his injuries from when he'd been away... Sherlock shook his shirt and went to throw it on but John stopped him. The older man placed the shirt back on the bed and ran his fingers across some of the deeper scars on Sherlock's back.

Sherlock made a move to get away from John but John stopped him. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"When do you think," said Sherlock in response.

"Some of them are really bad Sherlock," said John finally backing away and letting Sherlock grab his shirt again.

Sherlock made a sniffing noise and began buttoning his still wet shirt. "You didn't think my two year hiatus was a holiday did you John?"

John felt terrible. "You were tortured," he said in a small voice.

"Yup," said Sherlock popping the 'p' as he hands fumbled over the wet shirt buttons. The mixture of his cut fingers, the wet shirt and the tremor running through his hands, as he felt anxious with this conversation ensured fixing his shirt was a difficult task. He'd managed to escape over a year without John noticing the scars and honestly he didn't want to explain them now of all times...

"I'm sorry Sherlock," said John.

"Why?" asked Sherlock finally getting his shirt to sit right. "It wasn't you who berated me in Serbian, it wasn't you who shackled me in a room and beat me to a pulp... What could you possibly have to apologise for?" Sherlock's tone was snappy and defensive. John knew that tone well, it was the same voice he'd used to protect himself when he'd had the weekly meetings with his psychiatrist before he'd even met the man standing in front of him...

"You could have told me," said John handing Sherlock his coat.

Sherlock took the coat from John and swung it around flamboyantly as he put it on. "Funnily enough the topic of torture never seemed to come up over afternoon tea whilst I helped you and Mary arrange seating plans at your wedding."

John ran his hand through his hair. "Jesus... Sherlock," he said exasperated. John pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to be insulted. Sherlock was on edge... Naturally. And maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the scars, but how could he not? Sherlock's back looked terrible and the scars were obviously at least a year old. John had seen injuries like that before he knew the recovery would have been horrible and what disturbed John the most was the fact Sherlock had never even let on... Not once.

"When did they happen?" John asked not quite ready to let this go.

"The night before I came back to London," said Sherlock as the detective tried to put on his gloves before realising they wouldn't fit over the bandages on his hand and pushing them back into his pocket angrily.

John felt another pang of guilt as he remembered throwing Sherlock to the floor the night he came back... He could have made the injuries worse, torn the flesh more... Maybe Sherlock's back wouldn't have been as bad if it wasn't for...

"Don't be an idiot John," said Sherlock.

"Sorry?"

"You're thinking about throwing me around the night I came back, I'd still have scars even if you'd simply shook my hand that night so..."

John licked his lips. "I'm sorry anyway," he said.

"Don't be an idiot," said Sherlock with a weary smile as he awkwardly tied his scarf around his neck.

John wanted to know more about what happened to Sherlock when he was away but he doubted the detective would tell him anything... Sherlock was stubborn, especially when it came to personal matters... John made a mental note to ask Sherlock again later, maybe with Mary. Mary had some sort of hold over the detective. She always got the truth out of him... Well nearly always...

"So then," John said instead changing the subject. "Are you going to visit Molly before we leave?"

Sherlock made a move for the door but hesitated for a moment before carrying on down the corridor. "Not right now, I'll let her rest. I'll see her in the morning though."

John stopped and allowed Sherlock to walk a few paces in front of him. He watched as Sherlock stopped as he noticed John wasn't following him. He turned and gave him a confused look. "Aren't you coming?"

"Em yeah of course I am," he said catching up to the detective.

Sherlock and John exited the hospital grounds and hailed a cab. Sherlock gave the cabbie directions to Baker St and sighed heavily leaning forward and burying his head in his hands. John bit his lip. He'd seen Sherlock stressed before but this was more intense. Whoever was behind this knew everything about Sherlock; his friends, his pressure points... John was sure they knew about everything the man had gotten up to during the two years he was 'dead.' John didn't even know what Sherlock had done during that time; Sherlock never gave him a straight answer. The little incident about the scars on his back was the closest Sherlock had ever gotten to opening up about his time away.

"Sherlock," began John but he wasn't entirely sure were he was going with this sentence.

"Janine is Moriarty's cousin."

"What?" asked John completely thrown by this new information.

Sherlock looked up, his green-blue eyes sparked with hated and something else... Fear? "She's Moriarty's cousin. She was working for Magnussen to gather information on anybody who would be of any threat to Moriarty's network. And now... well she's after me, but it's not just her I know it isn't... somebody else is behind all this. Moriarty wasn't just a person John, he was an entire empire."

"Oh my God, Sherlock," said John exasperated. The doctor stared out the window at the London landscape passing by. "This is too dangerous Sherlock, they all know too much about you. This isn't like the pool or the top of Barts or even Magnussen... This is serious. Molly nearly died tonight and you were shot at."

"I know," said Sherlock, his voice was smaller than usual; he seemed almost vulnerable. Sherlock took a deep breath ran his hands through his hair and smiled seemingly regaining control. "But I beat them all remember? This will be no different."

John furrowed his brow and tilted his head. Sherlock's childish cockiness seemed off to him as if he was putting on the mask of confidence for John's benefit. "You are the most confusing individual I've ever encountered did you know that?"

Sherlock smiled. "Perhaps I won't assign you the task of writing my eulogy John, you're not exactly a man who is full of compliments."

John scoffed. There were almost at Baker St now. "Sherlock," he started again. "Are you okay though, really?"

Sherlock's eyes flashed towards John. "I'm always fine," he said in a monotone.

"Sherlock."

"What do you want me to say John?" asked Sherlock sharply. "Are you just going to keep asking me that inane question until I break down in tears like in your stupid little soap operas?"

John's jaw tightened, "The truth Sherlock. I just want to know the truth." John watched, as a million emotions seemed to flash in Sherlock's eyes.

"Honestly," began Sherlock his voice deep and dark. "I think this will probably be my last case, I don't see myself getting out of this one alive... and even if I do the people that I- the people that matter to me... well, they mightn't be so lucky."

"Sherlock," John breathed but again he wasn't entirely sure of what to say.

"It's the life I chose John, you really didn't expect to see a day were I'd be old and grey living in a little cottage retired in the countryside did you? Living some mundane little life as a beekeeper or something redundant like that? One of these cases will eventually be my last and I am very much so of the opinion that this case my just be the one that sees my demise."

John just glared at Sherlock. "You'll make it out of this alive Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled weakly but John knew he didn't believe him. "Maybe."

The cab pulled up outside of 221B and Sherlock threw the cabbie the fare before climbing out of the car without a word. John took a deep breath before following him.

John waited as Sherlock fished the keys from his pocket, he was shivering slightly and John reminded himself that he had taken a bit of a dip to save Molly. He made a mental note to light the fire and make Sherlock tea when they got upstairs.

"I forbid it," said John suddenly as Sherlock finally managed to find his keys.

"Forbid what?" asked Sherlock opening the door.

"I forbid you dying."

Sherlock began to climb the stairs and scoffed at John's remark. "I'll keep your order in mind," he said reaching the top of the stairs and entering the flat.

"No," said John. "I'm serious. I can't have my daughter growing up without her Godfather now can I?"

Sherlock made a noise that John couldn't even fathom and the detective turned to face his friend. He gave John the same look that he had when John had called him his best friend. "Ex-excuse me," his voice broke. "What?"

"Well we, I mean Mary and I... well we want you to be our child's Godfather."

Sherlock swallowed. "John I... I don't know what to say."

"Well saying yes would be a good start," said John with a smile.

"Yes?" replied Sherlock slightly confused.

"I mean you will do it yes?" asked John.

Sherlock's lips curled upwards into a smile. "Ye-I mean yes of-of course I will. How could I say no to being little Sherlock's Godfather?" said the detective jumping up excitedly and powering on his laptop. John was pretty sure it was the first time Sherlock had sincerely smiled in a long time...

"We're still not naming our daughter after you," said John taking a step forward.

"We'll see about that," said Sherlock with a grin.

John simply scoffed. "I'm going to light the fire and stick the kettle on. You really should go have a shower and change into fresh clothes Sherlock, you'll freeze otherwise."

Sherlock cut John a look.

"Don't look at me like that," said John in a superior tone. "Just do what I say for once, please?"

Sherlock sighed dramatically before crossing the room and making his way towards his bedroom. "If you could stop testing out your parenting skills on me that would be a treat," he said reaching his room before closing the door behind him.

John managed to get the fire started and stuck the kettle on while he waited for Sherlock. The kettle had just clicked off when Sherlock walked out from his room in fresh clothes and a dressing gown. "Saving people from drowning is tedious work," he said putting emphasis on the 'k' in work.

John simply smiled as he made the tea and Sherlock plopped himself down in his chair beside the fire with his laptop.

"How's your shoulder?" asked John choosing to ignore Sherlock's comment.

"Been better, hoping I won't develop a limp," said Sherlock sarcastically.

John grimaced and handed Sherlock his tea making sure to spill a little of the hot liquid on Sherlock's hand as he did so.

Sherlock hissed and cut John an angered look.

"Oh sorry," said John insincerely. "Did I burn you?"

Sherlock dried his hand on his dressing gown and returned his attention back to his laptop. "Moriarty wasn't king of the empire."

"Sorry?" said John sitting down.

"He was high up there yes, but he wasn't the ringmaster. The network I spent two years destroying was his personal staff and employees. But it runs deeper than that much deeper. Janine isn't the only one behind it now either, she has people working under her and more than likely above her."

John just stared at Sherlock. This ran deeper than he thought. It was naive of him to think that Sherlock was only up against one individual, Hell he'd taken down Moriarty's entire network... the man was going to have enemies, a lot of enemies.

There was a knock on the door and Mary entered wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown. "Oh, sorry," she said as her eyes scanned the coffee table before focusing on a paperback and picking it up. "I thought I left my book in here."

John smiled at his wife. "No need to apologise."

"Will you be coming up soon?" Mary asked.

John glanced at the clock before answering. "Hopefully yeah," he answered.

"Wait, what's going on?" asked Sherlock who'd watched this whole scene play out and was rather confused...

"Didn't John tell you?" asked Mary who was hovering at the door.

"Tell me?"

"Emmm," said John clearing his throat. "I- well we've decided to move back in for a while."

Sherlock titled his head. "Why?" he asked sceptically.

"Well-" began John but he wasn't really sure of what to say. Truthfully he'd been worried about leaving Sherlock on his own and Mary had agreed. There was plenty of room for them all to live in Baker Street for a little while at least, until the case was solved... But John didn't want Sherlock to think he was babying him. He didn't want the detective to think John thought he couldn't take care of himself. He knew how Sherlock acted when he was stressed and even though Sherlock protested that it had all only been for a case, the morning John had found Sherlock in the drug's den was always on his mind and he didn't want to see his friend fall into that trap again... Despite what the detective said, he needed friends.

"We thought it would be easier for the case," said Mary answering for John. "If something happens instead of you having to call John or I or come to our house we'll just be in the other room."

"Yeah," said John grateful that his wife had answered for him. "That."

Sherlock looked the Watsons over before sighing. "Okay," he said. He was happy really that they were coming to stay but he'd never tell them that of course. Of course. "I won't keep him much longer," said Sherlock to Mary with a smile.

Mary smiled. "Good," she said simply before saying goodnight to the men and plodding back up the stairs with her book.

John watched Mary leave and tried hard to suppress a yawn. Honestly he was knackered. Today had been... long to say the least, had it really only been this morning that he'd been saying goodbye to Sherlock at the plane? It felt like forever ago...

"Go to bed," said Sherlock not looking up from his laptop.

"No," said John trying to suppress another yawn but failing dramatically.

Sherlock smiled. "No, you're tired. Go to bed. This will all still be here tomorrow... Besides I think I need a trip to my mind palace. You'll only distract me with your plainness."

John shook his head. "I'll never understand why you have enemies you prick," he said jokingly.

"I know," said Sherlock looking up from his laptop, the glare from the screen making his eyes shine brighter than usual. "I'm so nice."

John smiled ruefully. "You sure you're okay on your own?"

"I've been okay on my own for over thirty years don't see that fact changing now," said Sherlock in response as he returned to his typing.

John studied the man sitting by him for a moment before sighing. "Alright then, goodnight Sherlock."

"Night."

Sherlock waited until he was sure John wasn't going to come back down before shutting down his laptop and strolling down the hall into his room he closed the door in one swift motion behind him and allowed himself to collapse down onto his bed. When his head hit the pillow he heard the crinkling of paper...

Sherlock furrowed his brow and pushed himself up onto his elbows and saw an envelope sitting on his pillow. In cursive writing in elaborate blue ink on the envelope's front was written...

_Time for part two, Mr. Holmes..._

**Stopping here for now. Please leave a review/comment and until next time... Toodles ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! I just wanted to take this chance to thank you all for your comments, reviews, follows and favourites of this story! You're all too kind... really! **

**Also a big thanks to those of you I've been talking to on Twitter! You're awesome people :)**

**Standard Disclaimer.**

Sherlock wouldn't admit it but he felt sick just at the sight of the envelope. He contemplated waking the Watsons before even touching the little parcel but dismissed this thought almost instantly... What was he six? He could open an envelope by himself. So instead he took a deep breath and picked up the envelope.

It was light, so there was only paper in it...

He toyed with the packet in his hands for a moment before he cautiously tore open the envelope and found enclosed two pieces of paper.

The first note was written in the same careful cursive that appeared on the envelope whilst the second piece of paper simply contained different sets of numbers... Sherlock read the note:

_Better get reading Sherl, you have 24 hours... if you don't solve my little puzzle well... You won't have to worry about being a godfather... _

_JM_

_xox_

Sherlock scrunched the note up into a ball and threw it to the other side of the room, before sighing heavily and allowing himself to fall back down onto the bed. She... he... them? They knew John and Mary wanted him to be their child's godfather... Did they have the flat bugged? And the envelope hadn't been on Sherlock's bed earlier when he'd gone to change so... Someone had been in his room since he'd come home...

Sherlock studied the second piece of paper it contained sets of numbers... A cipher... Bloody brilliant...

Quickly realising that any attempt at trying to get some sleep was useless Sherlock pulled himself from his bed and went back into the living room to try and decipher the message although he doubted any of the books on his shelf would be of any worth.

He scanned the message carefully. So the message started with 11 14... The fourteenth word on the eleventh page? But the fourteenth word on the eleventh page of what? Janine had been in his apartment she'd seen his books so maybe... Did she leave a book here?

Sherlock began to rummage around the room; one of the times he had to have Janine over she'd been reading... something... Getting her to read a book had been the only way he'd managed to distract her from doing something... else. Sherlock blushed at the memory. Feigning a relationship with Janine had been problematic at times...

Sherlock pushed around some of the books on his shelf and found the book she'd been reading. It was one of those soppy beach summer romance reads... Sherlock scowled at the idea that someone who could read such a sorry excuse for literature could be related to James Moriarty... He seriously doubted it would be of much use. He did however skip to the eleventh page the fourteenth word was...

May.

May...

A sentence could start with may...

Sherlock read more of the cipher, according to the code the next word should be on... page twenty-three... the fifteen word. He thumbed through the book and counted the words...

David...

Sherlock sighed he highly doubted the message read... May David... Sherlock didn't even know anyone called David... He threw the book across the room in frustration. He scanned his shelves and pulled three books down at random. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

John sunk into the bed beside Mary and yawned.

"What a day," he said resignedly.

Mary put a bookmark in her book and placed it on the bedside table. "I'd say... Is Sherlock okay? You could have stayed down there and helped him for longer."

"I was given my marching orders," said John rubbing his eyes. "He sent me to bed."

Mary shook her head and smiled. "Well if he's still bossing you around he has to be okay," she teased playing with John's hair in her hand.

John laughed half-heartedly. "He could be dying and he'd still boss me around."

Mary laughed and began to run her hand down John's face before tracing back towards his hair. "He's Sherlock," she said as she studied her husband's facial features. "He'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure this time," said John. "He doesn't... I've never once seen Sherlock doubt himself but today... He's not the same man he was when Moriarty was last around."

Mary took John's hand in her own and they intertwined their fingers. "What happened him?"

"He was shot at and Molly-

"No," said Mary. "I mean when he was... dead."

"Oh," John felt awkward. "I don't know... I've no idea what he did, he only ever told me he broke down Moriarty's network but he... he never went into detail. But tonight at the hospital...

"What happened?"

"His back," said John simply.

Mary furrowed her brow. "His back?"

"Mary he's... he's covered in scars. All across his back... He was beaten to a pulp before he came back to London, the night before... and what did I do then? I just threw him around like a rag doll..."

"You weren't to know," said Mary.

"Yeah but..."

"You can't blame yourself John," said Mary as she settled in closer to her husband.

John put an arm around her. "I know... it's just..."

"Just what?"

"I should've been there for him."

"You are there for him."

"Not back then... Not when he needed someone. He was all alone Mary. He fought this, alone. And I was here... hating him for not talking to me, hating him for killing himself... and hating myself for letting him do it."

John took his arm away from Mary and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"John," said Mary as she pulled herself up on the bed to view her husband more clearly.

"Sorry," said John shaking his hands and regaining his composure. "Sorry... it must be the tiredness.

Mary watched as her husband slid back down on the bed.

"John?"

"I'm really tired okay... we'll talk in the morning."

"But John-

But her husband had already turned the bedside light off and had turned away from her...

Mary sighed and allowed herself to curl back up into the bed. "And he thinks Sherlock is the moody quiet one," she thought before trying to fall to sleep...

* * *

John woke up before Mary the following morning and got dressed quietly as to not wake up his wife. He checked his watch... 7am. It was slightly disorientating to wake up in Baker Street again after all this time but when he remembered why he was staying in 221B he almost wished he was home again... Bloody Moriarty...

He strolled down the stairs and went to walk into the kitchen but before he even reached the bottom of the stairs he was greeted by the smell of cigarette smoke...

John cursed under his breath. It was bad if Sherlock was smoking...

"Sherlock," he called before walking into the sitting room. "Sherlo... oh," John gasped as he was met with the entirety of Sherlock's bookshelf lying on the floor of the sitting room. It looked like a massacre in a library.

Sherlock himself was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. There was an ashtray near his elbow filled with cigarette butts. Based on the state of the room and the amount of cigarettes in the ashtray, John seriously doubted Sherlock had gotten any sleep...

"Sherlock," he said cautiously as he stepped over an array of torn paperbacks to reach his friend. "What happened?"

Sherlock leant back in his chair took a cigarette from his pocket and hung it lazily from his lips. "I decided to start a book club," he said gruffly.

John looked down at Sherlock as the detective struggled to light his cigarette with a battered lighter.

"Out of nicotine patches?" asked John as Sherlock finally managed to get the cigarette lit.

Sherlock took a long drag from his cigarette and rolled his head back before puffing out a stream of smoke. "This problem required the real thing," he said his voice sounding darker than usual.

Sherlock handed John the cipher. "I found this in my room last night..."

"11-14-15-23 23-8-5-14 25-15-21 1-18-5 2-5-1-20-5-14?" said John reading from the card. "A cipher?"

Sherlock cut John a look. "Obviously."

"Are you in any way close to solving it?" asked John although he already knew the answer.

Sherlock glared up at him and John almost winced at the look the detective cut him. Sherlock looked terrible. His normally bright eyes were pale and shot with blood, dark circles enveloped his tired eyes, which only resulted in making them look even duller, and his skin had taken on a more alabaster tone than usual. He looked like an extra in a George A. Romero film...

"Did you get any sleep last night?" John asked.

"Stop asking questions you know the answer to John it only results in lowering the IQ of the entire street."

John sighed. "You should go get some rest Sherlock."

"Sleep will slow me down," said Sherlock pulling a book from under the desk and beginning to check it with the cipher.

"I think sleep deprivation might slow you down more mate," said John.

Sherlock clenched his jaw as he realised the book wasn't going to help him with the code and flung it across the room, it hit off the skull picture frame on the other wall before crashing to the floor.

"Jesus Sherlock," said John. "No need to tear the place down."

Sherlock took a drag from his cigarette and stood to face the window. "No need to tear the place down..." he repeated angrily in a mocking tone of John's voice.

John bent over to pick up some of the books. "Ripping apart your personal library isn't going to stop this from happening."

Sherlock tapped some ash from his cigarette onto the windowsill. "Don't you think I know that John," he said in clipped tone. "None of these books are the right ones to solve the code... None of them... Every damn book on that shelf is worthless."

John placed several books on Sherlock's desk and licked his lips nervously. "You'll solve the code Sherlock," he said. "You have time. I'll help you."

Sherlock puffed away furiously on his cigarette, even from the couple of feet between them John could see the tremor in the other man's hands.

"I am hardly in the essence of time John," said Sherlock. "I've less than a day... I barely managed to save Molly... If I was only a little later or..."

"Stop with the self doubt Sherlock it really doesn't suit you."

Sherlock turned and eyed John suspiciously. "Am I not allowed to doubt myself now?"

"No," said John bending over to pick up some more books. "You just said we're not in the essence of time so we don't have hours to waste of you standing around moping and puffing on cigarette after cigarette... Just stop being such a drama queen and get the puzzle solved!"

Sherlock looked at his feet and sighed but for once he didn't make a sarcastic or rude comment. "You're right," he said softly.

John almost dropped the books in his hands. "I'm sorry?" he asked. "What did you say?"

Sherlock stubbed the butt of his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"You just said... that I, John Watson, was right?" asked John in a teasing tone placing more books on the table.

Sherlock yawned and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm going to go lie down for a while," he said in a defeated tone. "I'm missing something... Something obvious..."

Sherlock continued to mutter about the cipher as he crossed the hall and went to his bedroom slamming the door behind him.

John bit his lip. He didn't like this self-deprecating version of Sherlock. It really didn't suit Sherlock to be so... down on himself. Also even though John was glad the other man had gone to bed the fact that Sherlock had gone to bed was very out of character... John had personally seen Sherlock avoid sleep to the point of collapse on previous cases. So to go to bed after not even being on the case for twenty-four hours... John was worried.

John sighed and opened the windows to let out the smell of smoke. He began sorting through all the books that had been strewn on the floor and tested them against the cipher in case Sherlock missed something but no luck... He even started checking the books again in case he read the cipher wrong but... no luck.

John sighed again. He quickly understood why Sherlock had turned to smoking... John decided however he'd settle for a different drug. Coffee. John shuffled quietly into the kitchen and filled the kettle and stuck it on. He heard movement on the stairs and looked up to see his wife entering the kitchen.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning," said Mary giving her husband a peck on the check and scooting past him to open the fridge. "Where's Sherlock?"

"Bed."

"You actually managed to make him go to bed?"

"More or less," said John as the kettle switched off. "I think I might have managed to make him think it was his idea."

Mary smiled as she spooned coffee into two mugs. "Clever boy."

John poured the boiling water into both mugs as Mary began cutting some bread to make toast.

"Oh I've appeared to have intruded on the domesticity of marital bliss," spoke a drone voice behind the Watsons.

John and Mary turned to see the umbrella twirling Mycroft Holmes had entered the kitchen. Mycroft looked at the mug in John's hand. "Black, two sugars. Thank you John."

John sighed... "Get rid of one Holmes for an hour and another strolls on in," he muttered to Mary as he prepared another mug of coffee.

"Where is my brother?" asked Mycroft as he sauntered around the books in the living room.

"Sleeping," said Mary handing the elder Holmes his coffee.

Mycroft took a sip from his coffee and nodded in approval. "My brother can go days without so much as sitting down, give him a case that has London in terror and he snoozes..."

Mary cocked an eyebrow unimpressed with Mycroft's tone. "He was shot at last night," she said taking a sip from her own coffee.

"Well we were lucky you were not the shooter than Mrs Watson, perhaps his injuries would have been more... severe."

Mary pretended she wasn't surprised at Mycroft's words. So he knew too...

"What are you doing here Mycroft?" asked John walking into the living room and sitting down in his armchair.

"I was here to consult with my brother on his progress in the Moriarty case," said Mycroft sitting down in Sherlock's chair.

John took a taste from his coffee before answering Mycroft. "Well he's in bed so...

Mycroft licked his lips. "I have already spoken to Gregory Lestrade," he said. "I've heard about Sherlock's old flame's involvement."

John studied Mycroft's face. "Well if you've already talked to Greg then why are you here?" he said.

"Excuse me?" asked Mycroft taking a sip from his coffee.

"You came here to tell us something else," said John putting his coffee down.

Mycroft placed his own coffee down. "I see your time spent with my brother has improved your deduction skills Dr. Watson," said Mycroft reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a file. "You may want to have a look at this," he said passing the file to John.

John took the file and began to skim through it.

"Sherlock will be excused for his... for his actions regarding Charles Augustus Magnussen if this case reaches a satisfactory conclusion," said Mycroft basically summarising the file for John.

John continued to thumb through the file. "I thought that was a given," he said.

"He's a murderer John," said Mycroft rolling the point of his umbrella along the carpet. "That fact cannot go ignored."

"We're better off living in a world without Magnussen," said Mary.

"That may be so," said Mycroft. "But my brother dealt with the situation in a... reckless manner."

"He was protecting his friends' lives," said John looking up from the file.

"And in doing so he endangered his own," Mycroft looked down again, he was still fidgeting with the umbrella. "I suppose you realise by now that the task Sherlock was to be sent out to perform in Eastern Europe was likely to be a suicide mission."

John tensed. The idea had crossed his mind especially since Sherlock had been so careful about his choice of words at the plane but to hear Mycroft say it was another thing.

"So what happens now then?" asked Mary. "Are you just going to let Sherlock save London again from these psychopaths and then put him on the next plane to Death Valley?"

Mycroft bit his lip. "As I said," he began. "If Sherlock reaches a satisfactory end with the case he will be excused from all charges... It was never made public he had anything to do with Magnussen's death."

"And if he doesn't reach a satisfactory end with the case?" asked Mary.

"He will," said John defiantly before Mycroft could say anything. The elder Holmes simply nodded.

"I was never one for sentiment John," said Mycroft. "But the impact you've had on Sherlock's life... It's been extraordinary. Sherlock was never quite as accomplished at hiding his emotions and not allowing them to rule his head as I. Loneliness was a fundamental problem for my brother until..."

Mycroft seemed as if he wasn't going to continue but then spoke again. "Our parents bought Sherlock a dog when he was a child. An Irish Setter, a raggedy mutt of a thing but Sherlock loved that dog."

John couldn't help but smile at the thoughts of kid Sherlock running around with a puppy...

"I believe I told you that when Sherlock was younger he wished to be a pirate when he reached adulthood so it was no surprise to us that he named his dog Redbeard. The two were inseparable. That dog was truly Sherlock's first friend"

"What happened?" asked Mary. "When-

"When Redbeard died?" asked Mycroft no love lost in his voice. "He was hit by a car when Sherlock was at school, the kindest thing to do was to put him to sleep... Our parents decided not to tell Sherlock the truth. They filled his head with one of those 'he's gone to live on a farm' kind of stories."

Mary sat on the arm of John's chair and took one of his hands in her own.

"Sherlock went on believing that story for... for longer than was perhaps beneficial," said Mycroft.

John bowed his head; the images of a lost young boy without his only friend struck him hard. All of a sudden Sherlock's lack of sentiment seemed explained. "So that's why he doesn't let anyone in," said John.

"I used to tease Sherlock about that dog," said Mycroft. "After he realised the truth. It was around this time that Sherlock truly... changed. Beforehand he'd been known to allow his heart to rule his head on occasion but after Redbeard... Well those days were as dead as his dreams to become a pirate. Sherlock losing his dog marked the end of his childhood."

John looked down and began to pick at the staples in the file. In all the years they'd been friends John had learned very little about Sherlock's life before they'd become flatmates. So to hear all this now... It just seemed wrong.

"We won't abandon him," said Mary suddenly.

John looked to his wife and then Mycroft.

"Sorry?" said Mycroft.

"That's why you're telling us this right?" said Mary. "You want us to see the impact loss has had on Sherlock before and you don't want us to allow that to happen again."

Mycroft looked down. "Despite our differences," he said. "Sherlock truly... means a lot to me, I will not see him hurt, not by his enemies or his... friends. I want your word that despite what happens you'll be there for my brother."

Mary's grip on John's hand tightened. "Of course we'll be there for Sherlock," she said answering for herself and John.

Mycroft nodded. "Dr. Watson," he asked. "Do I have your word?"

Before John could answer however there was a noise behind him.

"Do you have Dr. Watson's word regarding what, brother mine?" asked Sherlock entering the living room.

John looked up to see the detective wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Where are you planning on going Sherlock?" asked Mycroft standing up not answering Sherlock's question.

"I was going to visit Miss Hooper," said Sherlock simply. "What were you discussing with the Watsons?"

"Just because they are your goldfish Sherlock doesn't mean I cannot converse with them without you."

Sherlock grunted. "Why are you here Mycroft?" he asked.

"I was here to check on your progress with the case," said Mycroft sizing himself up with his brother.

"I'm pretty certain you've already discussed all relevant data with Lestrade," said Sherlock coolly.

Mycroft smacked his lips. "Anything else you care to add to DI Lestrade's report then brother mine?"

Sherlock put his hands in the pockets of his coat and studied his brother carefully. "Nothing that cannot wait Mycroft, I received a threatening letter and a cipher last night but that's hardly noteworthy in my life now is it? I'm sure you'd find similar reports on John's blog."

With that Sherlock threw on his coat and turned to leave.

"Well don't you think you should be trying to solve the cipher?" his brother said raising his voice slightly.

"There are some things more important than threats from deranged criminals Mycroft," said Sherlock stopping at the stairs.

"And what may that be brother mine?" asked Mycroft leaning his weight on his umbrella.

Sherlock smirked. "Goldfish."

With that Sherlock began to bound down the stairs taking them two at a time.

John stood up quickly. "I better go after him, shall I?"

Mycroft simply shrugged. "I'm trusting you to keep an eye on him John," he said.

John just nodded before racing down the stairs after Sherlock before the detective could get a taxi on his own.

**Leaving it off here for now, please review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Yo peeps back again! Thanks for the reviews on the previous chapters; it's a real treat to know you're enjoying my little story. Honestly means a lot. To everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited or followed this story thank you thank you thank you! Enough rambling now... Let's get back to the story. **

**Standard Disclaimer. **

John managed to catch up with Sherlock before the detective got the attention of any of the cabbies.

"Coming along?" asked Sherlock not turning around as he signalled to a cabbie who stopped beside him.

"Any excuse to get away from your brother," said John.

Sherlock smirked. "I know the feeling," said Sherlock jumping into the car and giving the cabbie directions before moving to sit on the far side of the cab. John pulled out his phone and texted Mary to apologise for abandoning her with the elder Holmes. He had just been focused on catching up with Sherlock and had forgotten she was still in her pyjamas and was therefore housebound and left in the often-intolerable company of Mycroft Holmes. John doubted he'd be Mary's favourite person by the time they returned from the hospital...

As the cab pulled off from the kerb Sherlock began to focus on his phone once more.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Nope," said Sherlock popping the p.

John grimaced. "You really should have gotten some sleep Sherlock."

Sherlock looked up from his phone momentarily. "Too much on my mind."

"Do you think you're any closer to breaking the code?" asked John.

Sherlock sighed. "No... But I'm missing something obvious, really obvious. I know that. So far these clues have been more of a memory test than an intelligence quiz. I'm pretty sure whatever the code is it'll lead us somewhere we've been before."

John just nodded and turned to look out the window. A text came through on his phone. Mary:

_Don't worry he left as soon as your cab pulled away... Talk to Sherlock! Xox_

Like John needed reminding to talk to Sherlock... Everything that Mycroft had said about Sherlock's childhood and Redbeard was still playing on his mind. He wanted to ask Sherlock about it but... He wasn't sure how Sherlock would deal with it.

"What was my brother asking you about?" asked Sherlock who was still typing away on his phone and John once again began to seriously consider that the consulting detective could read minds.

John looked at the younger man. Should he tell Sherlock everything? Or should he be vague? John bit his lip. "He's worried about you," he said simply.

"Pfffff, he always says that," said Sherlock dismissively. "What else did he say?"

John licked his lips and decided he may as well just tell Sherlock the truth. "He told us about your childhood."

John could see Sherlock tense at this revelation. "Redbeard?" he asked his voice smaller than usual.

"Yeah," said John. "He told us about Redbeard."

Sherlock shook his head and looked out the window throwing his phone down beside him. "Almost thirty years later and he still won't stop about that dog... Did he emmm... tell you I believed the farm story?"

John just nodded but realising that Sherlock wasn't actually looking at him said, "yes" also.

"He probably also told you that Redbeard was my only friend yes?" Sherlock's tone was getting bitter. "That Redbeard was the only one I properly talked to? That after he... died, that I only then decided I didn't want to be an ever travelling pirate and dedicated my time to science and reason? Yeah? He told you the whole lot?"

John nodded again regretting slightly to admitting what he'd discussed with Mycroft. "More or less."

Sherlock sighed again and ran his hands through his hair being mindful of the wrapping on his hand. "Brilliant," he said angrily.

"You can talk about it you know," said John.

"You are becoming far too much like Oprah for my liking John," said Sherlock his tone not losing its bitterness as he went to turn his attention back to his phone.

"And you're becoming far too much like a grumpy teenager for mine!" said John raising his voice slightly.

"You know I'm not one for all this emotional malarkey," said Sherlock once again abandoning his mobile. "Besides I don't particularly wish to discuss events from my life that took place before I even started secondary school."

"Fine," said John raising his hands up in surrender. "Your way... Always your way."

John took out his own phone to check the time and ended up pretending to text to avoid looking at the other man.

Sherlock sighed dramatically. He hated this... fighting with John. It always made him feel uncomfortable. He sighed again and studied the other man carefully. "I know you're only pretending to text you know," he said knowingly giving the other man a weak smile to break the tension.

John stopped tapping at his phone and looked at Sherlock before he embarrassedly returned his phone to his pocket. "I shouldn't have pushed you to talk about that," he said. "Emmm sorry. If you don't want to talk about personal stuff we don't have to."

Sherlock nodded and then paused. He scratched the back of his head and opened his mouth to say something before closing it and opening it again. "Actually John," he said finally, looking away from the ex-soldier. "If you really want to talk about something... emmm... personal... there is something I'd errr... like to discuss."

John stopped sulking and looked at the other man. This was an unexpected turn of events. "Yes?"

"Something happened last night," said Sherlock vaguely.

"Surprisingly Sherlock even I caught on about that," said John. "I collected you from the hospital remember?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously," he said starting to regret having said anything. "But I mean before the hospital and the pool."

John furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock began to squirm slightly in his seat and ran his hand through his hair again. "Well I was in Molly's lab... with Molly and I got a call from Janine or whoever and I had a test tube in my hand at the time."

"Okaaaaaaaay," said John not following where Sherlock was going with this at all.

Sherlock twisted in his seat again and began to play with the bandages on his hand. He couldn't believe he was telling John this... "Well I somehow managed to break the test tube in my hand," he continued his tone abash. "And Molly insisted on cleaning me up and we got talking-

John's eyes widened as he finally began to realise where this was going.

"I kissed her... I mean a peck on the cheek, that sort of thing but only... Well she emmm-

"Did she kiss you?" John internally berated himself at how childish his question sounded, he all of a sudden felt like he was thirteen again having the banter and talking about the hottest girls in English class with the boys behind the bike shed...

Sherlock looked up at John quickly and then back at his hands continuing to play with the bandages. "Yes," he admitted.

John couldn't help but smile. "How was it?"

"It was over pretty quickly."

John seriously had to bite his tongue to not make a joke at that but managed to compose himself quickly. "Why?" he finally managed to ask.

"She ran out," said Sherlock. "Said she was sorry and that she'd made a mistake and that we should forget it happened."

John's heart sunk slightly. "Oh," he said simply.

"Only," continued Sherlock who somehow seemed to shrink into his seat even further. "I'm not so sure I want to forget it happened... I mean I don't want to forget it happened at all."

John's jaw dropped. This was not happening. He was not actually having this conversation with Sherlock bloody Holmes. "Really?" he asked his surprise evident in his voice.

Sherlock was blushing and continued to fidget in his seat and played with his seatbelt nervously. "Really," he admitted his voice getting smaller with each response.

"Wow," said John simply running his hands up and down his thighs.

"What?"

"Well I just never thought I'd be having this kind of conversation with you," he said looking up and smiling at the still embarrassed detective.

Sherlock scowled indignantly. "Shut up!"

John laughed. "Do you need me to give you the talk? You know the birds and the bees?"

Sherlock looked as if he was about to bolt from the cab. "That's errrr... quite enough now John," he managed to say finally his voice cracking.

John couldn't stop smiling. This was golden. Sherlock Holmes had girl problems. This should hit the worldwide trends on Twitter...

"So what are you going to do then?" asked John still smiling.

"What do you mean what am I going to do?"

"About Molly?"

Sherlock nervously ran his hand through his hair again which John was beginning to realise was Sherlock's tell that he was uncomfortable. "What do people normally do in this situation?"

"They get all smoochy and sweet like a Hugh Grant film," said John leaning back in his chair enjoying this immensely.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm not going to turn into a goofy loved up idiot John," he said. "I'm not you."

It was John's turn to scowl. "I'm not a goofy loved up idiot."

"Awh pity," said Sherlock smacking his lips and picking up his phone and returning it to his pocket.

"What do you mean pity?"

The cab pulled up outside the hospital and Sherlock hopped out of the cab allowing John to pay the fare. "You were getting so good at your deductions but I can see you've fallen back to the start again... How could you be expected to deduce other people when you can't deduce yourself?" Sherlock smiled. "Pity really, I was thinking of retiring and letting you take over the business."

John cursed Sherlock as he paid the fare. "You're unbelievable, he said to the detective.

"I know," said Sherlock winking at John before strolling away from the cab.

* * *

The pair entered the hospital and got details at reception as to where Molly's room was. Sherlock was feeling nervous and hated himself for it. It was not okay that Molly Hooper was making him feel this way... Yet... It felt... nice at the same time. Sherlock scowled, bloody John Watson and his sentiment was obviously rubbing off on him...

John walked past the shop on the ground floor and Sherlock paused and studied the shop carefully. "Eh John?" He said stopping the doctor.

John turned and saw a very awkward looking Sherlock looming over the bouquets of flowers at the shop's front. "Should I emmm buy Molly... buy her emmm-

John smiled again. This was priceless. He was beginning to wish he had a video camera...

"Buy the yellow ones," said John.

"The yellow ones?" said Sherlock picking a bunch of yellow carnations from the stand.

"Yeah," said John his tone slightly teasing. "You don't want to come across as too Hugh Grant, I think the world might just stop spinning if Sherlock Holmes presents someone with a bouquet of red roses."

Sherlock scowled, he'd get John back for this inane teasing... "Back in a minute," he said walking into the shop to pay for the flowers.

John took out his phone and texted Mary. _"You will not believe what is happening!" _

John's phone beeped with a delivery report as Sherlock came back with the bouquet of flowers.

"You look weird carrying flowers," said John smiling as he did a little run to keep up with the detective's long strides as they walked towards the elevator.

"Shut up."

"You're not going to get far with Molly if you're grouchy like that."

"Again John," said Sherlock twiddling with the flowers wrapping in his hands. "Please shut up."

John laughed as they finally reached Molly's floor. Just as they were about to walk into Molly's room, John's phone rang.

John took it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. "Mary."

"I better take this," he said looking up at Sherlock. He could actually see the fear in the younger man's eyes as the thoughts of talking to Molly on his own. "You'll be fine just... well I would say just be you but... well no Molly likes you, just be you."

Sherlock nodded nervously and watched as John walked back down the corridor and answered his phone. Sherlock took a deep breath and then mentally scolded himself for taking a deep breath. This wasn't facing Moriarty or the hound or Magnussen this was Molly... Then why was he having heart palpitations? Sherlock cursed sentiment as he opened the door to Molly's room...

Sherlock's grip on the bouquet tightened with the sight he was met with when he entered the room. Molly was sitting up in the bed but she wasn't alone. There was someone on her bed, sitting beside her, his hands were on her back and her hands were ruffling through his hair. The pair were interlocked together... Kissing like it was some sort of low budget soppy teen movie. The man in question was Tom, the seemingly not so ex-fiancé...

Molly broke away from Tom when she heard the door. "Oh, Sherlock... hey!"

Sherlock's heart sunk but he tried to compose himself quickly... Replacing his mask and pretending everything was okay... No... not pretending, everything was okay... Right? Sherlock's brain was moving too quickly and he could hardly keep up with his thought process. Tom's presence completely threw him off guard. Realising he hadn't actually said anything since entering the room Sherlock finally spoke. "Molly," he said simply in greeting his voice cracked slightly and he hating himself for it. "Tom."

"Hi Sherlock," said Tom playing with Molly's hands in his own. Molly seemed as if she was slightly uncomfortable at this but she didn't stop him. She looked embarrassed... Sherlock only hoped his face wasn't betraying the stoic presence he was trying to display.

"How," Sherlock's voice broke again. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm a bit sore," said Molly her voice was small, shy. "But not as bad as I would have been if it wasn't for you. Thank you Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled weakly. "No problem," he said still toying with the flowers in his hands. He hated himself for this... Why was Tom here? What had he missed? He hated everything. If the universe just decided to delete itself at this moment it would be a happy release.

"Thanks for saving her Sherlock," said Tom readjusting his hold on Molly's hand. "I heard last night and I came here first thing this morning... We broke up for such a stupid reason now that I think about it and when I heard of what happened... When I thought of a world without Molly Hooper I realised that I needed her in my life again."

"She's," said Sherlock suddenly unsure of what to say, what to even think... "She's one of a kind."

"She's that alright," said Tom kissing Molly on her forehead.

Sherlock couldn't do this he looked down and cursed himself for allowing sentiment to rule his head.. "I emm brought you flowers," he said finally in a clipped tone, his emotions starting to get the better of him again. "I don't know why we bring the sick flowers... It's hardly a motivator to get well is it? It's like saying 'here you go sick person here's a bouquet of healthy flowers that you are now going to slowly watch wither and die as you try and get better'... Seems rather insensitive... But nonetheless, who am I not to give into social conventions? Here you go." Sherlock practically threw the flowers on the bed not caring if he hit anyone with the bunch of carnations.

"Sherlock- began Molly taken aback by Sherlock's actions but the consulting detective cut over her.

"Sorry I have a case to solve, I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead and now that I know you're not dead, I have more important things that need seeing to," he said gruffly not even looking at her anymore. He couldn't look at her anymore. "Goodbye Miss Hooper."

Sherlock turned and stormed out slamming the door behind him and instantly bumped into John.

"Sherlock," said John taking one look at the detective and not liking what he saw. "What's wrong?"

"We're leaving," said Sherlock simply digging his hands into his coat pockets.

"But Sherlock-

"Now John!" The detective's tone was final.

John simply watched dumbfounded as Sherlock pushed past him and strutted down the corridor before bounding down the stairs. What the hell had just happened? He hadn't even been gone two minutes...

The door to Molly's room opened behind John and the doctor jumped slightly.

"Oh sorry John," said Tom excusing himself. "Did I scare you?"

The penny dropped and John felt his heart break for his friend... It made sense now. "Tom... hey," he said lamely. He already knew the answer to the next question based on Sherlock's reaction but he had to ask. "Are you two back... back together?" John asked.

"Yeah," said Tom running his hand through his hair. "Hard to believe isn't it? It's just when I heard what happened it made me think... We'd split for such an idiotic reason and I thought well, everything should be given a second chance right?"

"Right," said John sadly.

At that moment Tom's phone began to ring. He glanced at it quickly. "Look I better take this," he said. "Are you going in?" he asked gesturing towards Molly's room.

"No I," began John looking away towards were Sherlock had ran. "I better emmm go find Sherlock."

"Right," said Tom. "Okay... I'll see you later then."

John just nodded and began to walk back down the corridor towards the stairwell. Tom waited until John was out of earshot before answering his phone.

"Janine?" he said lowering his voice. "Yeah... it's all going to plan. You should have seen his face." Tom smiled deviously as he turned to watch John plod down the stairs after the detective. "Our little game to destroy Sherlock Holmes is well underway."

**Stopping here for now! As always feel free to review/comment and 'til next time... Toodles! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! Sorry about the wait for this chapter, I just wasn't happy with it for a while and needed time to edit it... a lot. Hopefully things will run smoother here on out. Thanks for all the feedback both on this site and on Twitter, it really means a lot. You guys are awesome :)**

**Writing in italics is text messages.**

**Writing in both bold and italics are Sherlock's Mind Palace.**

**Standard Disclaimer.**

John found Sherlock outside the hospital leaning against a pillar, smoking. John stopped and just looked at his friend before approaching him. Sherlock hadn't noticed him yet and John could clearly see that he wasn't okay; the younger man was holding himself like a scolded puppy. He just looked... broken. Sherlock took a long drag from his cigarette and turned to see John studying him.

Sherlock smiled unconvincing. "I haven't checked all the books in my bedroom yet and I left some books in your old bedroom a few months ago. I'll need to check over those titles too, it's unlikely they'll be of any use but it's worth a go."

"Sherlock," said John simply.

Sherlock billowed a stream of smoke in John's direction and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'm sorry," said John gesturing back towards the hospital.

Sherlock scowled before taking a final drag from his cigarette and stubbing the butt against a bin. "Nothing to apologise for John, human error, nothing worth discussing."

John furrowed his brow. "Sherlock-

Sherlock raised a hand to John stopping him. "No," he said simply. "No. We are not discussing this... What happened in there... just no," Sherlock's voice cracked slightly, betraying his blasé composure. "We're forgetting it."

"But Sherlock-

"Exactly what part of the word no is it that you don't understand John?" snapped Sherlock getting irritated by John now. "Enough."

"Sherlock," said John realising he was treading on thin ice but he couldn't help himself. "Look it's okay, you don't have to get defensive, sometimes these things work out and some-

"And sometimes she gets back with her ex-fiancé?" said Sherlock butting in on John and taking a step or two forward closing the distance between himself and John. His tone was bitter and as he drew closer to John the doctor could smell the smoke on his breath. Sherlock could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be and right now he was almost like a dragon. "I told you earlier that the whole Oprah facade doesn't suit you and honestly John I'm not going to take romantic advice from someone who didn't realise he was married to an assassin. You're hardly the advocate of the perfect relationship now are you?"

John seen red and he shoved Sherlock in the chest, pushing the detective away from him. "Just because she got over you and rejected you is no excuse to take your anger out on me Sherlock," he said getting angry now himself.

Sherlock clenched his jaw. "She didn't reject me," he spat his tone as sharp as a blade.

"Well that's what it looks like from where I'm standing," said John who was more than a little annoyed now at the man in front of him. His pity for Sherlock was quickly vanishing.

Sherlock bit his lip, he looked like he was about to retaliate but he didn't. The detective sighed. A million emotions seemed to flash in Sherlock's eyes in the short seconds before he spoke again. "Years," he said finally his tone softer now. "Years she... she... I exploited her feelings towards me," Sherlock laughed hollowly. "Looks like she won in the end, sentiment John is a chemical defect found in the losing side and I've made that mistake now. Moriarty would be delighted..." Sherlock rolled his eyes and spun around allowing his coat to billow out around him and he began to mock Moriarty's accent. "Ordinary Sherlock falls for the unattainable girl. Ugh... human error, John." said Sherlock a certain degree of self-loathing in his voice. "Nothing more."

Sherlock took a step back from John and the doctor took a moment to calm himself, he was still pissed at what Sherlock had said about Mary but he let it go. Sherlock was too emotional (if that was even possible) right now and he didn't need this... Whatever 'this' was... Hell, John didn't want to argue with the man, not really... Despite the fact Sherlock was out of line. Besides if they argued about Mary, Sherlock would win. Not only had she shot him but also Sherlock had killed a man to help save her. Any argument involving that woman would see Sherlock as the victor.

John glanced at the detective who was running his hands through his hair and John decided it was definitely Sherlock's tell that he was uncomfortable. Sherlock sighed again. The detective opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted.

John's phone began to ring in his pocket and he pulled it out to check it. It was the surgery. John groaned...

"It's work," he said half-heartedly. "I'm going to have to take this."

Sherlock just grumbled something under his breath and stuffed his hands into his pockets aggressively as John answered his phone and walked a few steps away to take the call in privacy. The detective began to kick the ground with his foot and sighed. He hadn't really known what he'd expected to happen with Molly but seeing Tom... He'd been completely thrown by that. And then he'd taken his anger out on John, he'd regretted saying what he'd said about Mary but... No, he couldn't think about regret as well as everything else... He didn't have time for that he still had a case to solve... A code he was nowhere near cracking.

Sherlock's mobile buzzed as John continued to talk on the phone to his employers. Sherlock begrudgingly took his phone from his pocket and checked it.

_It's no fun, is it now Sherlock? Heartbreak... I'm going to cut your time on our wee game. You have four hours to solve my little puzzle and follow the clues to our next destination or you'll lose baby Watson as well as Molly. _

_JM_

xox

"Sherlock," said John pressing the end call button on his phone and walking towards the detective. "I'm being called into work, I tried to get out of it but-

John stopped as he looked at Sherlock's face. He was staring at his phone as if he thought it was going to blow up at any moment. He looked... scared. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock just stared at his phone. He felt hollow, afraid. This wasn't right... How did she know? How? She had him followed completely. And only four hours to solve the code... He needed to get back to Baker Street now... Not enough time...

Sherlock turned and made a dash to run and get a cab but John grabbed his coat sleeve. "Sherlock, what's going on?"

Sherlock roughly pulled his arm from John's grasp. "I have a puzzle to solve," he said gruffly making a move away from the doctor but John grabbed him again.

"Sherlock what's going on?" John repeated but the detective simply pulled himself away from John's grip and sped off.

"Sherlock!" yelled John as the detective ran away from him and hailed a cab instantly but the detective didn't so much as turn as he got into the back of a cab and asked to be driven to Baker Street.

John sighed. One could know Sherlock Holmes for a lifetime and never truly know the man... He felt guilty for allowing Sherlock to run off but he couldn't afford not to go into work. He had a baby on the way and money was hardly in abundance... However he still felt as if he was letting his friend down... John sighed once more just as a text came through on his phone. John took his phone from his pocket and furrowed his brow. Unknown number...

_Are you sure you can trust him? _

_M_

John furrowed his brow; he was confused... His phone beeped again.

_He never did tell you what he got up to when he was away did he? _

_M_

John was beginning to feel nervous. He wanted to shout after Sherlock but of course the man was already gone. He didn't like this... His phone beeped once more.

_You saw Sherlock's back... He was punished, he was a very, very naughty boy, don't you want to know what he did? Aren't you curious Doctor Watson?_

_M_

The last text made John's heart drop. He'd been so wrapped up in his own guilt about not being there for Sherlock when he was away and when he initially returned to London that he had not yet considered what Sherlock had actually done to receive the beating on his back...

John's phone buzzed yet again. He wasn't liking this one bit. He felt like he was being watched.

_Let's just say Dr. Watson, perhaps Magnussen wasn't Sherlock's first kill after all... _

_M_

John's heart skipped a beat as he finished reading the last message. The thoughts of Sherlock killing anybody when he'd been away had never crossed his mind... not once... but... Now that he thought of it... Sherlock had said he'd taken down Moriarty's entire network... single-handed. Could he really do that without getting blood on his hands? If Sherlock had killed people... it would explain his reluctance to tell John what he'd been up to... It would explain why he never spoke of his time away... If he had killed people it would explain why he'd been brutally tortured... It would explain-

John shook his head. This was Moriarty, or someone connected to Moriarty trying to turn him against Sherlock... right? He couldn't believe this. This was someone trying to turn him against his best friend. Sherlock wouldn't lie to him about something as important as this... However there was a small voice in John's head reminding him that Sherlock had lied about being dead... Sherlock had always lied to him...

John' phone buzzed once more and John hesitated before opening the message, his heart was thumping heavily in his chest. He didn't want to know what the message said but he had to look at the message.

_Just in case you don't believe me... _

_M_

Included was a picture message, it looked like CCTV footage. It was slightly blurry and low quality but there was no mistaking the man in centre frame. In dark jeans and a blooded white vest was Sherlock. He was cut and beaten and despite the bad picture quality John could make out a nasty cut above the man's eyebrow. However it wasn't Sherlock's appearance that disturbed John but the fact that Sherlock was holding a gun and covering the floor around the detective was a mass of dead bodies...

John felt sick... This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. Sherlock wasn't... he couldn't be... Could he?

One more text.

_So John, do you still think you can trust him? Sherlock's kill streak is bigger than Mary's... _

_M_

John bit his lip. He took a deep breath and put his phone on silent before putting it back into his pocket, deciding to ignore it for a while. He didn't want to look at it, he felt ill. This was a game, a game to turn him against Sherlock, nothing else other than a stupid game... He knew that... Then why did he feel so sick? Sherlock was supposed to stop killers not... become one. John almost gagged. He'd need to discuss this with Sherlock later but for now, he'd work to do. He needed a distraction and if that was dealing with twenty patients with runny noses and coughs then so be it. He'd talk to Sherlock later after he had time to process all of this... What a fucking mess...

* * *

Sherlock was totally engrossed in his Mind Palace for the entirety of the cab journey back to Baker Street, however no matter how hard he tried to only think of the code and how to break it his mind kept wandering back to Molly, Tom, John and Mary and her baby... Whenever he'd think through the code in his head he'd see Molly kissing Tom or Mary dying in John's arms or a coffin only large enough to fit the body of an infant... He was quickly becoming overwhelmed...

He couldn't fail them. Not now. He'd already almost lost Molly...

_**"You did lose Molly," sneered Moriarty's Irish drawl from deep within the recesses of his Mind Palace. **_

"Shut up," mumbled Sherlock through gritted teeth under his breath.

"What was that mate?" asked the cabbie as he stopped at a traffic light.

"Nothing," said Sherlock dismissively closing his eyes and re-entering his Mind Palace. Once again the hallways were dark... His fear threatening to get the better of him. Even though it was his own mind, Sherlock didn't feel alone... Moriarty's presence was haunting him. Always.

_**"Your hiatus really did slow you down didn't it Sherlock?" Moriarty sniggered his voice seemed to resonate through Sherlock's skull.. "Not suspecting Janine? Really? You're very ordinary..." **_

Sherlock tried to clear his mind, but to no avail. Moriarty was like a persistant fly, no matter how many times Sherlock tried to swat him away he kept returning. Never leaving Sherlock alone, he was a terminal problem... There was no freeing himself of the consulting criminal.

_**"Really I wouldn't waste your time even bothering to solve the code. You'll never get it, and it is easy Sherlock. Elementary you might even say, you're wasting your time Sherlock... Perhaps you should just plan Mary and little baby Watson's funeral now." **_

Sherlock slapped himself awake. He couldn't even retreat to his Mind Palace... Moriarty was haunting him everywhere.

"Mate, are you okay?" asked the cabbie who was looking at Sherlock in the mirror, obviously thinking he was driving a nutcase about London.

Sherlock just looked up wide-eyed. "I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine... Never better really," he said babbling as he tried to ignore the palpitations of his heart.

"Okaaaaaaay," said the cabbie clearly hoping the cab journey would end quickly.

Sherlock looked out the window as the metropolitan landscape zoomed by; he tried to calm himself. He was going to get nowhere if he allowed his emotions to get the better of him... However that was proving to be easier said then done. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours ago. All of a sudden the suicide mission in Eastern Europe was becoming all the more welcoming... At least then it had only been his life on the line...

The cabbie had not even stopped before Sherlock threw him the fare and jumped out of the cab, he didn't have anymore time to waste on self doubt, he needed to act now. Sherlock raced up to the flat and pulled a few more novels from his room before bursting into the sitting room to test them against the code.

Mary jumped and dropped her book as Sherlock crashed into the room. "Sherlock you frightened me."

"I surprised an assassin and didn't get shot, lucky me," said Sherlock dryly before bending over and picking up Mary's book and bringing it along with the other books over to his desk.

Mary simply scowled. "I was reading that you know."

"Just let me check it and you can have your idiotic book back," replied Sherlock flipping through the pages of Mary's book quickly.

Mary sighed. "How's Molly?"

"Back together with Tom," said Sherlock realising Mary's book was useless and throwing it back to her.

Mary caught the book easily and just looked at Sherlock. "I'm so sorry Sherlock," she said sadly.

"Nothing to apologise for," replied the detective picking up another novel and thumbing through the pages.

"Are you okay?"

Sherlock threw the book to the floor and picked up another. "Never better," he said bitterly.

Mary bit her lip. "I know when you're fibbing Sherlock," she said.

Sherlock threw another book to the floor with force and looked towards Mary. "Later," he said through gritted teeth. "We will discuss this to death later if we must but right now I have a code to break."

Mary just nodded, she knew there was a time and a place for things like this. "Can I help?"

Sherlock pushed another book off the table and cocked an eyebrow.

"I was able to solve that skip code Sherlock, I am more than capable of having a look at a cipher."

Sherlock considered this for a moment before he tore a page from a notebook and rewrote out the cipher and handed it to Mary.

"Test this against the books on my desk, I have some more up in John's room I want to check out. Just shout if you see something."

Before Mary could say anything Sherlock had bounded from the room and climbed the stairs in search of more books.

* * *

After about twenty minutes Sherlock had practically pulled apart John's room to no avail. None of the books made sense against the code... None of them even came close to forming any sort of sentence. The likelihood of Sherlock solving the code seemed to be slipping away from him, yet the detective still felt he was missing something obvious... Really obvious...Maybe he was looking at this all wrong...

"SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock jumped up as he heard Mary call his name. She sounded desperate... What if Janine had decided to strike early?

"SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock raced down the stairs taking them three at a time and burst into the sitting room. He breathed a sigh of relief as he seen Mary standing by his desk.

"I think I cracked it," said Mary leaning over Sherlock's desk with a pen and paper in her hand. "It's isn't a book code, it's like those codes in the brain teaser sections of the newspaper, you know the ones? It's the letters of the alphabet... Look!"

Sherlock pulled the scrap of paper from Mary; she'd translated the first few words. It made sense...

KNOW WHEN YOU

"It's just the letters of the alphabet, it's not even jumbled. It just reads as how it's presented."

Sherlock was only vaguely aware that Mary was still talking as he went through the code...

If Mary was right then 1 equalled A and 18 equalled R and 5 was E

KNOW WHEN YOU ARE ...

Sherlock's heart was pounding as he translated the last seven letters.

2-5-1-20-5-14

"KNOW WHEN YOU ARE BEATEN," said Sherlock reading the code aloud.

Mary furrowed her brow. "Know when you are beaten? What kind of message is that?"

Sherlock was already grabbing his coat and scarf. "It's not a message," he said as he began to loosely tie his scarf around his neck. "It's directions."

"Directions?" asked Mary. "I don't understand."

Sherlock smiled wryly. "John's slowness is rubbing off on you."

"Sherlock."

"Know when you are beaten was the tagline on Irene Adler's website, I am assuming John told you about her?" explained Sherlock. "I believe the code is directing me to her old house."

Sherlock made a move for the door but Mary grabbed his arm. "You're not going on your own," she said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'll be perfectly fine."

"I'm not letting you go on your own."

Sherlock sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'll call John then."

Sherlock impatiently dialled John's number and waited for the doctor to pick up... No answer...

"He's not answering," grumbled Sherlock hitting the end call button with vigour.

"He never answers his personal phone when he's at work," said Mary running her hand through her hair.

"Look I don't have time for this, my time to solve the code was already shortened" said Sherlock. "I'll be fine."

"I am coming with you," said Mary grabbing her own coat.

"No you're not," said Sherlock trying to guide her back to the chair. "You're pregnant."

"I am also well trained in firearms," said Mary pulling John's gun from Sherlock's desk. "I am well capable of taking care of myself and you at the same time for that matter."

Sherlock groaned. "You're not coming," he said beginning to leave the room.

"You're not leaving without me Sherlock, end of."

Sherlock growled again and made a vow that no more hormonal women were allowed in Baker Street. Sherlock sighed dramatically. "Fine! Fine! But on one condition," he said as he left the room and began to trot down the stairs.

Mary quickened her pace slightly to keep up with the detective as they went down the stairs.

"I get to name the baby," said Sherlock turning around slightly to face Mary.

"No deal, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed. "You really are impossible you know?"

"And that's why you like me."

Sherlock chuckled softly enjoying the lightness of this conversation after the day he'd had. "This is true."

**Stopping here for now and yes my description of Sherlock in the photo was inspired by 'Little Favour' Hope you're happy with the update, as always please comment/review and let me know! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Right, so yeah I haven't updated in ages. Woops. I was torn between two different ways to take this story and I wanted to be sure of which direction I was going to take before carrying on further, I know what I'm doing now so all is good. Updates should hopefully be a bit more regular from now on as well so Yay! **

**Standard Disclaimer.**

John never heard his phone when Sherlock rang him. He was still ignoring it. After seeing the texts from 'M' he just couldn't bare to look at his mobile anymore. Besides, he was already on thin ice in the surgery if he was seen checking his text messages it might just be enough to entirely piss his employers off. However the pressure he had seen Sherlock under was making him feel guilty. He'd told Sherlock earlier that he wouldn't abandon him yet here he was taking pensioners' blood pressure whilst Sherlock was God knows where...

John ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. He still couldn't shake the picture of Sherlock surrounded by the bodies from his mind. Every single time he closed his eyes there was Sherlock, bloody and beaten and surrounded by corpses...

John shook his head and stood up walking over to the water cooler in the corner of the room and pouring himself a cup of the cold liquid. His hand was shaking, why was his hand shaking? The picture of Sherlock shouldn't change anything, it shouldn't. Besides he hadn't even discussed it with Sherlock yet. Maybe everything wasn't how it seemed...

John took a drink of his water. What difference did it make if Sherlock was... a killer? He'd forgiven Mary then he could... he could... of course understand why Sherlock would have done what he'd done, if it had been life or death then...

John still felt sick. Even if this was just Moriarty and his henchmen messing with his mind, it was bloody working and John hated it. John threw his empty cup in the bin and went over to get his phone from his pocket to check it, he hadn't had a patient in ten minutes, he needed to check to see if he'd received more text messages or ring Sherlock. He couldn't sit around like this for much longer.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and just registered that he had a missed call from Sherlock when the receptionist knocked on his door.

"I've a Mr. James Delaney here," she said. "Sore throat are you ready to see him?"

John looked longingly at his phone for a moment before sighing and returning it to his coat. "Yeah send him in please."

The receptionist just smiled and closed the door behind her leaving John alone.

* * *

The silence in the cab between Sherlock and Mary was slightly awkward. Sherlock was both annoyed and relieved to have Mary travelling with him but he was also quite worried. She'd been the one threatened in Janine's messages, her and the baby so maybe it was best she was with him at least that way he could keep an eye on her but he still felt uneasy having her with him. She was eight and a half months pregnant after all... Anything could happen.

"Thank you for emmm," began Sherlock clearing his throat mid-sentence. "For helping me with the code."

Mary smiled. "It takes a lot for you to admit someone was smarter than you doesn't it?" she teased.

Sherlock scowled. "I solved it ages ago... I was testing you."

"You're such a bad liar."

Sherlock scoffed and took his phone out to ring John again... No answer. Sherlock grumbled something under his breath as the call went to voice mail. He hung up without leaving a message. "Why exactly do people carry mobile phones if they never answer them?" He asked grouchily.

"You know he never answers his mobile when he's at work."

"Well excuse me for thinking the return of Moriarty holds more significance than toddlers with runny noses."

Sherlock began typing away on his phone as Mary just stared at him sadly.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Sherlock looked up. "Sorry about what?"

"Molly and Tom."

Sherlock grimaced and returned his attention to his phone. "Oh that."

"Yeah, are you okay? I was talking to John before you went into see her."

"I'm perfectly fine."

"Sherlock-"

"I have a feeling whatever we're looking for might just be in the safe in Irene Adler's house, either that or someone will be meeting us there, hard to tell exactly what will happen just yet. I-

Mary just looked at Sherlock as he rambled on, she only half listened to what he was saying as he was trying to change the subject from himself. She'd seen him do this on more than one occasion. He was scared, not just because of Moriarty although that was what he was mostly worried about, but she could see the same fear in his eyes that had been there preceding the wedding; the fear of being alone. Despite what the man said Sherlock valued his friendships, really valued them. He was worried about losing John because of the baby and now Molly the one who had always been there for him despite anything he did had been taken away from him. Sherlock didn't have to tell Mary how he felt she could read him like a book.

"Could be dangerous," said Sherlock snapping Mary out of her train of thought.

"You're not going to put me off," she said.

Sherlock smiled. "Didn't think I would."

"I'm not leaving you Sherlock," she said. Mary didn't just mean today she meant in general and she hoped Sherlock could see that.

The detective smiled. "Well since you were still hanging around after shooting me I thought you'd be difficult to shake off."

Mary smiled wanly. "You're not in this alone. You know that right?"

Sherlock's smile faltered but he composed himself quickly. "Thank you," he said simply not entirely sure of what else to say. Sherlock returned to his phone and tried calling John once more... Still no answer. Sherlock sighed and texted Lestrade instead telling him what was going on and asking him to have an ambulance on stand by. Just in case. Sherlock looked at Mary and back to his phone. He wasn't taking any chances.

* * *

As the cabbie pulled up outside Irene's old house Sherlock felt uneasy. The last time he'd been here he'd been drugged and he felt as if a similar outcome happening this time would be a lucky escape... He glanced across to Mary. He'd never forgive himself if he allowed something to happen to her... John would never forgive him.

Mary eyed the building suspiciously. "Ready?" she asked turning to face Sherlock.

The detective walked forward towards the front door in response. He checked the front door, the lock broken and the door was slightly ajar, so someone was expecting him anyway...

"The door's open," he said calling back to Mary who was taking the steps slowly to join Sherlock.

"Do you think it might be a trap?"

"Only one way to find out," said Sherlock as he began to push the door open.

Sherlock allowed the door to swing forward and studied the hallway before walking onwards. The musty smell and the dust told Sherlock that nobody had lived her for a long time. It had been a few years since Irene had left for good and obviously nobody had lived in or rented out her house since she had occupied it. Sherlock smacked his lips and began to cautiously walk forward.

"Come on," he breathed to Mary who was walking closely behind him. "I think we'll find what we're looking for in Irene's old safe."

Mary studied the house as Sherlock led her into a large living room, judging on the clue Sherlock had been left, the broken door and the breaks in the dust lines, Mary could tell someone had been here recently. Very recently, in fact they could still be here somewhere. It was a large house after all. Mary found herself unconsciously rubbing her tummy, hoping that nothing would happen her child if there were someone else still in the house.

Sherlock studied the mirror above the mantelpiece and began fumbling along the hardwood looking for a switch to click back the mirror hiding the safe. He found it quickly and waited as the mirror raised up to reveal the safe.

Mary walked over to Sherlock and studied the safe's control panel.

"Do you know the code?" she asked.

I did," said Sherlock before licking his lips. "A few years ago."

Mary looked at the control panel and then back at Sherlock who was leaning over the fireplace studying each of the buttons on the panel individually. "Are you going to use the code you know or?"

Sherlock hesitated for a moment. "The chances of the code being the same are slim but I have nothing else to go or... However if I use the code and it's wrong... I'm not sure what will happen. Also Janine would know I knew the last code so why would she have left it the same?"

"Maybe you're over thinking this," Mary suggested.

Sherlock looked at Mary and back at the control panel. It had been wiped clean, there was no residue left on any of the keys to suggest any sort of pattern. He had nothing to go on. Nothing at all. Sherlock bit his lip as he began to doubt himself once more...

John's voice shot through Sherlock's head...

**"Stop with the self doubt Sherlock it really doesn't suit you..."**

As John's words from earlier replayed in his head Sherlock took a deep breath and decided to go for it, before he could over analyse the situation further he made a move to type Irene's measurements into the control panel.

"Whoa, Sherl," said a voice behind him. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Sherlock and Mary turned as Janine entered the room. Mary turned quickly and took John's gun from her pocket. "I will shoot you," she threatened pointing the gun at Janine.

Janine simply laughed. "Shoot that gun and it'll be the last thing you ever do Mary. You don't really think I'm here alone do you?"

To answer her question a red dot appeared on Sherlock's temple, a shooter outside had him in sight. If Mary shot, they were taking him down too.

"Shoot me Mary and my little friend outside will decorate the walls with the insides of Sherlock's head, do you want that to happen?"

Mary bit her lip and lowered the gun, defeated.

"Good girl," said Janine in a sneer. "Now Sherl, back to business. How about we up the stakes yes?

Sherlock just stared at Janine. He was just about finished with these games.

"If you guess incorrectly Sherl my shooter will finish you how about that? The last thing you do in this life will be a mistake, how fitting for the egotistical control freak?"

Sherlock's jaw tightened and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. He eyed the panel again and began to doubt himself once more; it could hardly still be Irene's measurements, right?

"Maybe I should give you a hint, should I Sherl?" teased Irene. "It's not Irene's measurements."

Sherlock bit his lip; he was back to square one. He just stared at the panel. How was he supposed to guess this? How?

"Oh, come on Sherl, it's not difficult," chided Janine. "In fact I'd say the whole country knows, the code. They've heard it enough. Just think..."

Sherlock's emotions were getting the better of him again. The stress was hitting him. He didn't care about dying, not really but what would happen to John, Mary the baby if he was killed here? He kept raising his hand to begin typing some sort of sequence but what? He didn't know... He just didn't know anymore...

Mary just stared at Sherlock; she could see the fear and panic in his eyes. He wasn't coping, he couldn't even think straight. He kept mumbling different codes, words, numbers that the code could be under his breath but he wasn't trying any of them.

"Sherlock," said Mary softly but he ignored her. "Sherlock," she said slightly loudly.

"Gahh!" Sherlock growled slamming his fists against the mantelpiece. "I DON'T KNOW THE CODE!" he snapped.

"Sherlock," said Mary finally taking steps towards Sherlock and pulling him into a hug. "Just calm down okay, take your time. Just calm down. Getting stressed over this won't help you, okay? You're just missing something because you're panicking. Just calm down please and you'll see what you're miss-

Suddenly Sherlock pulled away. "Miss something?" he repeated. "Miss something!" he spoke louder. He turned to face the panel. "Of course, you said the whole country knows it, the whole country! His message played everywhere. The code is..."

MISS ME

Sherlock entered the code and after a beeping noise the safe clicked open. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. He was right.

Before Sherlock could put his hand on the safe's door a loud bang and the sound of glass splintering filled the room, the shooter had taken his shot. Sherlock jumped at the noise but he never felt the bite of the bullet, the gun hadn't been aiming at him. He hadn't been the target. Not this time. Sherlock looked towards the splintering window. If the shooter hadn't been aiming at him then that meant...

"Sher," whispered a voice beside him.

Sherlock turned to see Mary swaying slightly on her feet, her eyes wide with pain. Sherlock looked at her hand that was covering her tummy and at the blood seeping through her shaking fingers. She'd been shot...

"Oh God, no," breathed Sherlock.

"I told you that you'd be shot if you got the code wrong," said Janine in a sneering tone. "Never said what would happen if you guessed right... See you around Sherl."

Sherlock glanced at Janine quickly before turning back to Mary and catching her before she collapsed. This couldn't be happening...

"Please God, no," Sherlock muttered, as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled Lestrade telling him what was happening and that they'd need the ambulance. Now.

Mary raised a hand to Sherlock's cheek, staining his face crimson. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "It's-it's not your fault Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes widened and he just stared at the barely conscious Mary in his arms.

"It's not your fault," she repeated wearily before closing her eyes and going limp in Sherlock's arms.

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat and he shook her gently, no response.

"Mary?" he asked his voice cracking slightly. He could hear the paramedics slamming doors and running up the steps of the house carrying their equipment. "Mary, please come on, MARY!"

**I changed Irene's safe panel slightly just to suit my story. Sorry about that. I'll try and update again soon, I'm back to uni in a month and I want to at least try and have this story finished before then. As always reviews are greatly appreciated and I'll see you in the next chapter. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys, thanks for the reviews on the last chapter it meant a lot to see that people still wanted to know what was going to happen next even after the long break! Things are starting to move forward quickly now. Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think. **

**Writing in italics are text messages. Writing in bold is Sherlock's Mind Palace/Memory. **

**Standard Disclaimer: **

John leaned back in his chair after seeing to his last patient for the day and finally gave into looking at his phone for the first time in an hour or so. He furrowed his brow, three missed calls from Sherlock and two unread messages from M. John went to call Sherlock back but something was stopping him, he could still see the detective standing over the corpses. John squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He hated this. He hated how the messages from M were making him doubt his friend...

He tried to compose himself and checked the messages instead both not wanting to look at them and unable to bear not reading them. He needed to know...

_Ignoring Sherlock's phone calls now are we? Did my little new flash get to you doctor? _

_M_

John bit his lip, he hated to say it, he couldn't say it, but the texts were getting to him. They bothered him, why didn't Sherlock say anything? Why did he _never_ say anything? Why? John sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair before opening the next text message:

_Did you ever find it weird that Sherlock wasn't angry when your wifey used him as a target practice, John? Never even screamed at her... Not once... Odd that, isn't it? Maybe he's waiting to get his revenge, did you ever think of that? Maybe if something bad were to happen to Mary, maybe he'd just let it happen, did you ever think of that? _

_M_

John furrowed his brow; he was having enough of this now. Hell, he didn't have a clue what Sherlock did when he was away. The man could have travelled through space for all he knew but to imply he'd hurt Mary? No, no. Sherlock would never touch her, ever. Hell, he'd killed Magnussen to protect her.

John simply scoffed and began to type a reply:

_Nice try but Sherlock would never hurt Mary, you had me for a while but you went too far. Sherlock would never put her in danger._

_JW_

John smiled and put the phone back in his pocket. Hell, Sherlock could have done anything when he was away, but to imply he'd hurt Mary? Hurt the mother of his godchild? Sherlock would never do that, ever. He couldn't believe he'd ever doubted Sherlock. What did it matter what Sherlock did when he was away? It meant nothing, nothing at all. Not now. John was still going to have to ask Sherlock about it, of course but whatever Sherlock did when he was away... Well, he would have had his reasons. John's phone buzzed in his pocket and the doctor sighed before checking it.

_Oh, really? Maybe it's time you checked your missed calls... _

_M_

John's heart fell as he read the message, what the hell did that mean? What was going on? He went to call Sherlock back just as his phone began to ring. It was Lestrade.

"John, where've you been? Sherlock was trying to call you," Lestrade sounded stressed, on edge. Something was definitely wrong...

"What's going on?" asked John his voice cracking slightly as he ignored Lestrade's questions.

John heard Lestrade hesitate.

"Greg, what the bloody Hell is going on?"

Greg sighed. "It's Mary," he said simply. "She's been shot."

John felt his world crash down around him. It was as if all the oxygen had been pulled from his lungs, it was like being shot again, it was like watching Sherlock jump again...

John fell back into his chair, suddenly unable to remain standing. This wasn't happening...

"John? Are you still there?" asked Lestrade. "John? She's been rushed into surgery. They wouldn't really tell me anything but they're trying their best to save her and the child... She's at Bart's... John? Listen, Sherlock is at the hospital now, he's really shaken up. He was there when it happened, he saw everything but he has hardly said a word since-

"Sherlock was there?" asked John his voice breaking as he tried to remain calm. "Sherlock Holmes let my... my... my _wife, _my... pregnant wife get shot?"

"John it wasn't like that," said Greg. "He-

"I'm on my way to the hospital now," said John cutting over Greg and hanging up.

John ran his hands through his hair. Mary was dying. The mother of his unborn child was dying... And Sherlock had... he had... done nothing? He was going to be sick. He needed to get to the hospital now.

John walked out of the surgery and hailed a cab he sat in the back of the taxi and tried not to throw up. His world was out of control, this wasn't happening. Mary couldn't be... she couldn't be... dying... No. John leaned forward and buried his head in his hands.

John's phone pinged in his pocket and he took it out to check it.

_Still think Sherl would do anything for your wifey?_

_M_

John looked out the window, he didn't even know anymore. Sherlock would never... he'd never put someone he cared about in danger right? However even as these thoughts ran through John's head he thought of all the times Sherlock had put him in danger... He thought of the kidnappings, the times he was held at gunpoint...

John took a shaky breath and typed a quick reply back.

_He made a vow to protect her. _

_JW_

The cab was pulling up outside the hospital by the time John got a reply. He threw the cabbie the fare before checking the message.

_Do you really trust the word of a man who lied to you about being dead for two years? _

_M_

* * *

John explained who he was to people at reception, to anyone really random doctors, nurses he just wanted to know what the bloody hell was going on. He was finally pointed towards a doctor who told him that Mary had a bullet wound to the abdominal area, losing a great deal of blood... She's gone into shock which had triggered early labour and she was currently in surgery to try and safe the life of not only her but her unborn child. John felt numb. He looked into the eyes of the doctor as he was told the news. He knew that expression. The doctor was wearing the "they don't stand a chance" expression. John felt once more like he was going to be sick... He couldn't lose both of them, not both of them...

Why had she been there in the first place? In Irene's house? Why did Sherlock let that happen? Why? She was eight months pregnant and he took her to... to the possible lair of his enemies? Jesus Christ... His wife... was dying... His wife and his unborn child were dying, fighting for their lives... and... and... it was all Sherlock's fault... If it weren't for Sherlock then...

John took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He needed to find Sherlock. Now.

* * *

Sherlock just sat alone in the waiting room tearing apart a styrofoam cup piece by piece. He hated waiting, always had. He'd never been a patient person nor had he ever been fond of hospitals. He'd spent far too much time in hospitals for his liking, de-toxing... recovering... It said something when your favourite part of the hospital was the morgue. As Sherlock's mind flashed back to the countless nights he'd spent in a hospital bed after a particularly heavy night he found himself unconsciously rubbing his arms at the old faded track marks. Christ, he hated hospitals...

He stood up and began pacing the room. He checked his watch again; it's been two hours... Two whole hours, why'd nobody come in to tell him anything yet? Why? Was it a good sign nobody was speaking to him yet? Surely not, that didn't make sense; they'd only delay telling him anything if something had gone wrong, right?

Sherlock wanted to try and call John again but he didn't know what to say, not anymore. He'd sworn to keep Mary safe, to keep the baby safe and he'd failed them. Epically failed them. Sherlock felt his heart rate elevating and his palms going sweaty, he was beginning to panic again. He hated to admit it but he needed someone, he needed John... But he had a feeling he was the last person John would want to see right now. Sherlock threw the torn pieces of the cup into a bin and kicked the bin for good measure. He hated feeling like this... Guilt... Doubt... Fear... What had ever happened to the version of himself that was void of emotion? To the version of himself that had no heart?

_**"I will burn you, I will burn the heart out of you."**_

_**"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one." **_

_**"But we both know that's not quite true..."**_

Sherlock shook his head at the memory, of course Moriarty had been right. It had never been quite so simply that he'd been careless, despite himself he'd cared. He'd always cared and now caring was beginning to tear him apart... Caring was destroying the lives of the people who mattered. Caring was going to bring upon his downfall...

_**"Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side..." **_

And Sherlock Holmes was losing...

Sherlock suddenly felt like his scarf was choking him and he tore it away from his neck slamming it into his pocket. He began pacing the room again. He needed to calm down. If he let his emotions get the better of him, he'd get nowhere. More people would end up getting hurt. And he could not; he would not, let that happen. He couldn't let them down, not again.

Sherlock looked up at the sound of an opening door and could see John coming towards him from down the corridor. Sherlock stopped pacing as the look in John's eyes froze him to the spot, John looked like how he felt. Tired... Alone... Broken...

"John I-" Sherlock began as John reached him but John didn't let him get his words out.

Before Sherlock knew what was coming, he was sprawled on the linoleum floor and busted his already injured shoulder against the crude plastic chairs of the waiting room. He let out a pained grunt. John's punch had completely knocked him. He could feel the blood already dripping down his cheek.

"John I-" he began but John cut over him.

"Don't!" he snapped. "Just... don't okay?"

Sherlock used the chairs to pull himself back up onto his feet. "John-

"I said shut up Sherlock!" barked John his voice rising to worrying decibels. All the anger he felt tumbling out of him. As soon as he'd seen Sherlock he just felt the rage inside himself consume him entirely. There was no holding back now. He was angry and Sherlock was going to have to deal with it. "It's all your fault Sherlock, I just can't do this anymore... They're fighting for their lives because of you!"

Sherlock dropped his gaze no longer able to keep eye contact with John. His cheek and shoulder were burning but he ignored them. He knew John would be mad but...

"My wife and my unborn child... Fighting for their lives because of you... Whatever happened to your vow, eh? You promised you'd always protect them and now because of you... because of you... What were you thinking?" John rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his hands, suppressing tears of anger.

"I never meant-

"Don't speak to me," said John dismissively taking a step backwards, trying to calm his breathing. "Okay? Just don't Sherlock."

"But-

"You know what Sherlock?" began John a tear freely falling down his cheek now. "Ever since we met all you've brought me was danger and pain. I've been kidnapped by a Chinese mafia group, nearly blown up by a criminal mastermind who also kidnapped me by the way, held at gunpoint by Americans, drugged and left quivering at the thoughts of manic hounds... I-I watched you die Sherlock, I watched you jump from a building and die... and I was left blaming myself for two years because I wasn't able to help you until you waltz back into my life like nothing ever happened and what happened after that? Oh yeah... I was almost blown up AGAIN and almost fucking burned to death in a bonfire!"

"Joh-

John cut over Sherlock again. His anger was getting the better of him. "I'm too old for this shit Sherlock, too old..." He said bitterly. "I have too many other responsibilities now... I can't live like this anymore, never knowing if a case will be my last, getting shot at, drugged and kidnapped... I just can't I have a family Sherlock, I have a life..." John was aware he'd told Sherlock he'd always be there for him only a few hours ago but that was before... That was before the man in front of him had put the woman he loves and his unborn child in danger...

Sherlock bit his lip. John's words were cutting into him like a blade... They were true though, every word. All he brought John was pain... He didn't deserve this, not John Watson. "I'm sorry John," said Sherlock in a tone barely above a whisper.

"It's just not enough anymore Sherlock, it just... it isn't enough... Sometimes I think... well, sometimes I think I was better off when you were dead."

Sherlock flinched at John's words. A throbbing pain grew within him, his chest tightened and his heart ached... Sherlock felt his knees buckle and he had to fight to stay standing. Being shot was nothing compared to this. This was utter and total desolation...

As soon as he said the words John regretted them but there was no taking them back now. John looked back up to Sherlock who was staring down at him. Sherlock rarely showed emotions but his eyes always gave him away. Always. When John looked into Sherlock's eyes he could see total devastation... "Sherlock I-

"I better go," said Sherlock, his voice totally void of emotion. "I never meant any of this to happen... I'm... I'm sorry John." Sherlock went to walk past John but the doctor grabbed his arm. Sherlock stopped and looked at John's hand on his arm. Sherlock looked back towards John and whatever hurt John had seen in his eyes was gone. The mask was back on and Sherlock didn't allow his emotions to betray him. He gently pulled himself from John's grasp. "I'm sorry," he said one last time before he walked past John and out of the waiting room, he'd barely turned the corner before John began to kick the waiting room chairs out of frustration before collapsing down in one and burying his head in his hands before finally breaking down.

His wife was dying, his baby might never even take a breath and his best friend was gone... Things couldn't possibly get any worse.

* * *

**Whoa. Okay don't hate me for this chapter. Please review and let me know what you think. I'll try and update soon as I can.**


	11. Chapter 11

**First of all...**

**Guys, the reviews on the previous chapter; I cannot even. You were all so unbelievably nice. I was very worried about the last chapter and your comments were really helpful and just beautiful, like insanely beautiful. Thank you so so so much. You made my day, my week... my year! Honestly. You were so so so nice. Thanks to each and every person who has favourited, followed, reviewed and read this story it means a lot. **

**Writing in italics are text messages**

**Writing in both bold and italics is Sherlock's Mind Palace/Memory**

**Standard Disclaimer: **

Sherlock's head was spinning; he could barely process what had just happened...

_**"Sometimes I think... well, sometimes I think I was better off when you were dead." **_

John's words played in Sherlock's head in a never-ending loop. John Watson, his best friend, John Watson, said he'd been better off when Sherlock was dead...

Sherlock could feel his chest tightening again at the memory. The tears in his eyes threatened to fall but he wouldn't allow that. He hadn't cried, well really cried in a long time and he wasn't starting again tonight.

It wasn't John's words that hurt, albeit it how harsh they may have sounded it was the fact that no matter how much Sherlock thought about it, was that he couldn't find fault in the words. John was better off when he was dead. When Sherlock was gone John had found love, new friends and hadn't once put his life on the line for a case...

Then Sherlock waltzed back in and...

Sherlock recoiled at this thought as his mind flashed back to the bonfire, the bomb in the underground, Mary shooting him...

And not being able to protect John's wife and his child... Putting the life of his godchild in danger...

Breaking his vow...

Sherlock leaned against a pillar outside of the hospital, suddenly unsure if he could keep standing. He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. He needed something, anything...

His hands were shaking a lot and it took him a few attempts before he managed to light the cigarette. He lit up and took a long drag for the cigarette before leaning his head back against the pillar and billowing out a long stream of smoke into the air.

Part of him wanted to go back into the hospital, to explain himself to John but... What was there to explain? He'd let his friend down and paid the price. He didn't want to hurt John anymore. He couldn't hurt him anymore. He'd caused enough pain already...

Sherlock took another drag from his cigarette as a text came through on his phone. He groaned, he really didn't want to look at this but had he really a choice?

_Tut, tut, Sherl... That wasn't very good, was it? For someone who cares so much about his friends, you've really got a talent for alienated them don't you? _

_JM_

_XOX_

Sherlock bit his lip, he was angry but... A part of him was done, completely and utterly done. This wasn't a threat from Moriarty against England, it wasn't a threat against London, this was Moriarty trying to break him, trying to tear him down and obliterate him completely.

_**"I will burn you, I will burn the heart out of you." **_

And Moriarty was winning... Moriarty was rising like a phoenix, as Sherlock lay burnt to a crisp in the ashes.

Sherlock pulled himself away from the wall; he needed to clear his head. He needed... He needed John, but that wasn't going to happen; not now so he settled for going for a walk. He needed to think this through. He needed to figure out what he was going to do next.

He began to walk the streets of London without any real plan of where exactly he was going. He considered going home but then remembered Mrs Hudson would be there and he really wasn't in the mood to explain what had happened to Mary... He wasn't ready for that… Not yet. The thoughts of seeing Mrs Hudson's face as he explained he'd been unable to protect Mary sent a dagger of pain through his chest. The thought struck him to go to Molly's but then he remembered she was with Tom and that just made him feel worse than he was already feeling so he decided against that also. He couldn't look at them together, not yet… Mycroft popped into his mind but he dismissed that idea almost instantly.

Sherlock bowed his head and turned up his coat collar as it began to rain. He tried to ignore the fact that he had nobody he was willing to turn to... No... Friends… He was alone.

**"Alone is what I have, alone protects me." **

Sherlock's own words from that dark day replayed in his mind, how naive had he been? Had he really meant those words? Had he ever meant them? That was the same day he'd jumped from Bart's to protect John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson…

**"No. Friends protect people." **

Sherlock felt his chest tighten again, he was sweating and it was becoming harder to breathe, his heart was pounding in his chest and he couldn't stop shaking. He was having a panic attack...

Sherlock crept into a dark alley and collapsed down against the wall, burying his head in his hands. Control... Control... Control...

Sherlock could feel himself falling apart. He needed to stop this; he needed to regain control. He couldn't let Janine and Moriarty's people beat him. He just couldn't. He'd survived two years, on his own, fighting Moriarty. He'd survived two years living rough, two years forming alliances with the people he was trying to bring down. Two years of never knowing if he'd see another morning… Two years of Hell... He wasn't going to allow himself to lose now. Not now.

Sherlock took a deep breath and entered his Mind Palace…

**The rooms of his Mind Palace were dark, which wasn't surprising. It was always dark when he was afraid. Sherlock tried to mentally turn on lights but it didn't seem to have any effect…**

**Sherlock sighed, he needed to calm himself down if he was going to get through this. He needed to decide what to do next.**

**Sherlock entered a room, a family living room and took in his surroundings. Comfy furniture and a fireplace it was the perfect setting to try and calm his mind. He allowed himself to breathe and tried to think what he could do.**

**_He could text Janine and say he was sick of her Games but he dismissed that almost instantly. That was just showing weakness and once he did that he'd be eating out of the palm of her hand. She'd own him. _**

**Sherlock sighed; he honestly wasn't sure what to do, for once. There wasn't even anyone to speak too… He took in his surroundings in his Mind Palace and sighed. Trust his warped mind to calm him down by placing him in the same room Mary had been sho-**

Suddenly Sherlock bolted awake. He'd never checked the safe. When Mary had been shot, he'd never checked the safe to see what was inside. He'd been so worried about her; he'd completely forgotten to look inside the safe. Whatever had been left in there for him could still be inside…

Sherlock lifted his head and ran his hands through his hair, he took some deep breaths and tried to calm himself down, he needed to get back to Irene's house. Now. Sherlock pulled himself up onto his feet and brushed himself down, he was sickened that he'd let his emotions overwhelm him but he couldn't help it. Sherlock always considered himself as someone who either never felt anything or felt things intensely. There was never an in-between. He intended to finish this now though, something was telling him whatever he'd find in the safe would be important and that whatever Janine had planned was coming to an end. It was now or never. Do or die.

Sherlock decided he didn't have time to hail a cab and instead ran, he ran down the streets of London towards the house of Irene Adler. He was going to finish this and nobody else was going to get hurt. He'd made a vow to always be there to protect John, Mary and their child and although he messed up, he wasn't going to fail them again. Not now.

Even if it meant he'd have to die to ensure their safety.

Sherlock reached Irene's house quicker than he had expected. He took a moment to catch his breath before looking around carefully. The police were long gone but the signs they'd been here were still present. The crime scene tape covered the perimeter of the house, not as if it'd stop Sherlock.

The detective casually lifted the tape and walked under it before making his way into the house, the door was still open and although it could have been the police, Sherlock doubted it. Janine knew he'd never checked the safe and that he'd come back. She was expecting him.

Sherlock felt his heart rate climb again; he was afraid of what was going to happen. He tried to control his breathing as he entered the living room. Again signs that the police had been here remained and sickeningly so was Mary's blood. A new wave of guilt hit Sherlock again as he seen her blood on the floor but he tried to ignore it and made his way over to the safe.

Sherlock tried to control his breathing as he approached the safe; he didn't have Mary to help control his nerves this time. What was he even becoming? Emotions were getting the better of him completely. Sherlock cursed himself as he reached for the door of the safe.

He stopped.

Last time, the safe had been booby-trapped, he remembered how he had ducked and the gun inside the safe had killed the American man who'd come to get information from Irene. Sherlock bit his lip. It could still be trapped. Sherlock grimaced before taking hold of the door of the safe and ducking down and opening it quickly.

Thankfully, nothing happened.

Sherlock sighed. At least that was one less thing to worry about. He stood up and readjusted his coat, regaining his composure and looked in the safe. It was bare apart from a paper envelope at the very back wall of the safe. Sherlock licked his lip and reached in and pulled out the envelope.

Sherlock sighed through his nose as he examined the envelope. It was the same kind as the one which had contained the cipher the night before, and the writing of which simply printed his name on the envelope's front was the same pen also.

Before Sherlock could think better of it, he tore open the envelope. Sherlock looked inside the envelope and furrowed his brow. It was empty.

"What the?" he breathed as he heard the sound of someone walking in high heeled shoes heading towards him. Janine.

"How is Mary, Sherl?" she sneered. "She wasn't looking too well last I seen her, funny how an assassin isn't keen of a gun being pointed at them, isn't it?"

"Stop it," said Sherlock through gritted teeth.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" asked Janine stalking forward. "You didn't really live up to that vow you made at the wedding now did you?"

Sherlock seen red and stepped forward closing the distance between himself and Janine. "It's me you want to hurt," he growled. "So, stop it. Okay? Leave them be, if it's me you want, take me on now. What good is it targeting my friends?"

Janine scoffed. "Because I know what kind of man you are Sherl, to break you I don't have to touch you. I only have to target your friends."

Sherlock stared Janine down. "Well I think you did pretty well in destroying my friendship with…" Sherlock paused suddenly finding it difficult to say his name. With emm… John, don't you? I'm alone, that's what you wanted. Right? So now what?"

Janine patted Sherlock on the arm. "Are you still doing drugs, Sherl?" she asked innocently.

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "No, why?"

"Because you're very strong, most people would've passed out by now."

At that moment Sherlock felt the sting as the needle broke the skin on his arm, Janine grinned as she pressed the plunger and released the drug into Sherlock's system. She pushed him back and Sherlock fell weakly against the mantelpiece, he struggled to keep himself upright as the drug already powered through his system. Sherlock highly doubted the fact he hadn't eaten or slept in a few days was helping him stay alert…

Sherlock's knees buckled and he fell, unable to hold himself up anymore. He was barely holding onto consciousness, the room was spinning and his head felt fuzzy. His breaths were coming in shaky pants. He tried to pull himself up but found he had no strength in his upper body anymore and fell back again.

"Oh, baby," said Janine running her foot along Sherlock's chest. "Don't get up, there's no need really. People prefer to die comfortably don't they? I wanted you to suffer before I killed you, Sherl. I wanted you to lose everyone you cared about before I finally finished you off. I wanted to break the bromance of the century before ended you Sherl. I wanted to do what my cousin never could, I wanted to burn the heart out of you."

Sherlock could feel himself getting weaker, losing consciousness. He was tired and the drug wasn't helping... He looked up blearily towards Janine and saw her take a handgun from her pocket. Sherlock sighed, so this was it then. He'd lost… As long as they didn't go after John, after his friends… As long as his death meant the end of this then what did it matter? There was a right time and place to die and Sherlock accepted that... If in dying, John would be safe then so be it. John had been better off when he was dead anyway…

He closed his eyes tiredly just before a shot rang out. For the second time that day Sherlock heard the gunshot but didn't feel the bite of the bullet. He managed to open his eyes once more and saw the body of Janine crash to the ground. She'd been shot, the back of her head was entirely gone. Sherlock furrowed his brow in confusion as he fought to hold onto consciousness. He raised his head at the sound of noise from the doorway and saw a curly haired figure standing at the door, he looked familiar but Sherlock's sight had deteriorated too much to make him out.

"Well Mr Holmes," said a voice that Sherlock recognised. "It's time for the game to really begin don't you think?"

Sherlock didn't have the energy to respond; instead he closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to consume him as he finally gave into the drugged induced sleep

* * *

**Righteo, I'll see you in the next chapter. Reviews would be much appreciated. :) **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello! I'm back, thanks once again for all the lovely reviews. I cannot believe this little fic has hit 100 reviews. It really and truly means a lot! **

**Thanks again to everyone who has read, favourited, followed and reviewed! :) **

**Type in bold is John's memory. **

**Standard Disclaimer:**

John had been nervously pacing the waiting room since Sherlock had left. He couldn't shake the image of seeing Sherlock's world shatter after he'd told him he'd been better of when he was dead. John sighed, yeah his life had been safer when Sherlock wasn't there but he'd not been better off... Far from it... John sighed. He wanted to call Sherlock, to apologise... to say anything really but he still wasn't ready for that. Despite his guilt at what he'd said, he was still angry. Sherlock should have known better than to take Mary with him and now... Well, now to John it seemed he might have just lost his wife, child and his best friend. John ran a hand through his hair, this was not really happening was it?

John sighed... He was living a nightmare.

"Mr Watson?" asked a voice behind him.

John jumped at the voice and turned. "Ye-yes?"

"Sorry," replied the doctor. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," said John, licking his lip nervously. "I'm fine... How is-" John gulped. "How's my wife?"

"She'd already lost a lot of blood on arrival and the trauma of the wound triggered early labour. The surgery was intensive and it wasn't looking good for a long time but both mother and child have thankfully pulled through. Your daughter is healthy and although Mary will be in pain and discomfort for a while she should make a full recovery. I regret to say however," the doctor broke into a smile. "I think it'll probably be you who'll be changing the nappies and getting up in the middle of the night for few weeks until your wife recovers."

John couldn't believe this, he felt himself breaking into a goofy smile. They were going to be okay. They were actually going to be okay. He hadn't lost them. They were alive. His wife and baby girl were going to be okay. He, John Hamish Watson was a father.

"Your wife is in recovery at the moment, Mr Watson," continued the doctor. "Would you like to meet your daughter?"

John's heart skipped a beat. His daughter, he was going to meet his daughter. His child, his first-born. He could feel the tears prickled at the back of his eyes. He couldn't believe it. Just a few minutes ago he didn't think this was possible and now? Whoa... It was almost too much.

He simply nodded in response to the doctor's question. Unsure if he could find his voice to answer the man before him.

The doctor smiled and ushered John to follow him down the hall. John's heart was pounding; Mary and his baby girl were okay. They were both okay, he hadn't lost them. John found himself breaking into a goofy smile. His family were okay. He still had a family.

The doctor led John into a quiet room with a small cot in the centre. John approached the cot nervously and looked inside to be met with the most delicate and beautiful child he'd ever seen wrapped in a pink blanket. She was gorgeous, she was tiny, she was precious, and she was his flesh and blood. Little baby Watson.

John gently reached into the cot and lifted his child into his arms. She was fascinating and pink, fragile yet full of life. This was overwhelming. His own baby girl was lying asleep in his arms. John didn't care if he was crying in front of the doctor, a perfect stranger. He was holding his daughter in his arms for the first time; this was euphoria.

"Any ideas on what you're going to call her yet?" asked the doctor in a whispered tone.

_**"Sherlock is actually a girl's name." **_

John was taken aback as Sherlock's words replayed in his mind and a sudden wave of guilt hit him but... He couldn't focus on that now.

"Oh," said John clearing his throat. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

The doctor smiled warmly. "You can take her into your wife's room once she's settled. It's best for newborns to stay with their mother as much as possible."

John simply nodded and the doctor smiled and left him alone.

John rocked his daughter gently in his arms and looked at her lovingly. "Hello, you," he said gently. "We've been waiting a while for you to come along, did you know that? Your mummy and I are really excited to have you in our lives kiddo and we're going to take great care of you, I swear."

"**_Whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on, I swear I will always be there. Always. For all three of you."_**

John smiled down sadly at his child as he remembered Sherlock's words. "You also have a Godfather who loves you, do you know that? He adores you and he hasn't even met you. You'll love him though, he's quite the character but he's all right once you get to know him, trust me. It's just... well him and your Dad, well we've had a falling out at the moment but you'll meet him when we're all ready, okay?"

As if to respond the little child opened her eyes blearily and stared up at her father, her bright and fresh eyes finding John's tired and tear filled ones.

"Hello my beautiful girl," said John warmly as he made eye contact with his child for the first time. "That's what you are, you're my beautiful baby girl."

* * *

After spending some time with his baby girl, a nurse helped John settle his daughter into the room with Mary. Mary was still out from the surgery but she lay peacefully on her bed and as John looked from his wife to his daughter he found it hard to believe that he still had both of them in his life. He truly had been very lucky. John yawned; he was absolutely exhausted. He knew he should ring Sherlock but... Well, he was so delighted to have Mary and his baby together that he needed a moment. He sat in the chair beside Mary's bed and took his wife's hand in his own before kissing it gently.

"Thank you for not leaving me," he whispered. John sat beside his wife and child and watched his girls as they slept before the tiredness overcame him and he finally fell asleep himself.

John never heard his phone ring; he never saw the messages from Mycroft nor Lestrade as his phone buzzed constantly throughout the night.

* * *

"So I get shot and you're the one who's sleeping?"

John woke to the voice of his wife in the bed beside his chair. He smiled as he seen she was awake.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied smiling brightly.

"How are you feeling?" asked John sitting up as he was becoming more alert, he glanced at the clock on the wall and realised he'd slept through the night.

"I've been worse," said Mary. "It's not every day you get shot and have a baby."

John smiled at the mention of his daughter. "Have you seen her?" he asked.

Mary nodded and turned to face the cot with her sleeping child inside. "A nurse came in a few minutes ago to feed her and introduced me. She's absolutely precious, she has your hair."

"Hopefully hers won't go as grey as quickly as mine did," said John playfully running a hand through Mary's hair.

Mary smiled and took her husband's hand intertwining her fingers in his. "How's Sherlock?"

John grimaced and Mary noticed his hesitation. "John?"

John licked his lips as he remembered the previous evening. "We... we had a falling out."

Mary furrowed his brow. "You didn't blame him for this did you?"

John met Mary's gaze. "He never should have brought you there."

"Did you honestly think I was going to let him go on his own?" retaliated Mary dropping John's hand, she shifted slightly in the bed and grimaced in pain but composed herself..

"He shouldn't have let you go near that place," reiterated John.

"I wasn't letting him leave without me," said Mary. "I forced his hand to bring me with him, he didn't want me to go."

"He still put you in danger."

"I put myself in danger."

John sighed. "Still."

"Still, nothing," said Mary. "Where is he now?"

John shrugged. "I don't know I haven't spoken to him since I was yelling at him last night."

"John," said Mary simply.

"I almost lost you, okay?" said John suddenly, slightly raising his voice. "I almost lost both of you," he added gesturing to the cot. "How was I supposed to react, like he'd done nothing wrong?"

Mary looked away for a moment and then back towards John. "You know he'd never mean to hurt you John, I get you were upset but you need to put it right, Sherlock is out there on his own, battling against someone who didn't think twice of shooting a pregnant woman just to prove his power, do you really think he should be on his own?"

John's heart sank. Mary was right; Sherlock was out there fighting this alone, while he sat here angry with him for something the detective never meant to happen. John stood up and stretched before picking up his mobile.

"I'll go phone him now," he said. "I'll apologise and well... you know."

Mary just nodded. "Hurry, he needs you."

John smiled weakly before exiting the room. He decided to take the call outside and trotted down the stairs and out the front door before looking at his phone.

Greg Lestrade... 6 missed calls.

Mycroft Holmes... 10 missed calls.

John furrowed his brow but before he could even make a move to call either number back he heard someone calling his name. John looked up to see an enraged Mycroft Holmes walking towards him. Before he knew what was happening John was pinned up against a wall of the hospital.

"Mycroft what the hell?" asked John confused. Mycroft had barely so much as touched him to shake his hand in the past and now he was pinned against a bloody wall.

"You promised me you'd stand by him," said Mycroft ignoring John's words.

"What?"

"Yesterday morning, you promised me you'd stand by him, that you wouldn't desert him!"

"Mycroft I-"

"And at the first sign of trouble you left him!"

"Mycroft I-"

Mycroft dropped John and walked away, grumbling under his breath. He seemed to be just as taken aback by his actions of shoving John up against the wall as John was. Mycroft never stooped so far down as to making a physical threat. Well, that was until it concerned his brother, his pressure point... When it came to Sherlock, for Mycroft, anything was possible. "I trusted you John," he said, his voice smaller than usual. "I trusted you not to let this happen."

John brushed himself down. "Let what happen?" he asked. "Mycroft what's going on?"

Mycroft turned to face John and he had the same lost and hopeless looking face Sherlock had the night before.

"Janine's dead," he said.

John scratched his head. "Did Sherlock kill her?" he asked.

Mycroft gave John a disbelieving look. "Do you think my brother is just going to kill everyone who gets in his way now, do you?"

John thought of the messages he'd received from M the previous day, he wanted to mention them but it didn't seem the correct time. "So Sherlock didn't kill her?"

"The evidence would suggest he didn't, no," said Mycroft. "The bullet we retrieved from Janine's head wound and the gun used point towards the conclusion that it wasn't Sherlock."

John nodded. "Well have you asked Sherlock?

Mycroft cut John another look and the army doctor quickly began to realise there was something Mycroft hadn't told him yet.

"Mycroft, what is going on?"

The elder Holmes sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose before answering. "We can't find Sherlock anywhere, he's just gone."

"What?" asked John as the severity of Mycroft's words hit him.

Mycroft looked down at the ground before looking back towards John. "Sherlock is missing."

* * *

Somewhere in London, in a darkened room a weary detective blearily opened his eyes. His head felt fuzzy and he felt weak and absolutely drained of all energy. He groaned and made an attempt to move but could feel his arms tied behind his back in some sort of rope restraint. He grunted as he came to and tried to take in his surroundings. Everything was still blurry and he was tired. He just wanted to sleep...

"Well good morning Mr Holmes, did you have a nice rest?" asked a voice to Sherlock's side.

Sherlock blearily opened his eyes again and tried to make out the figure of who was walking towards him. Sherlock furrowed his brow. It couldn't be, it made no sense. It just couldn't be...

"To-Tom?"

The man smiled. "Hello Sherlock," he said in a sneer. "I bet you weren't expecting me."

* * *

**Decided to include a slightly more bamf side of Mycroft, sorry if he seems too OOC but remember, Sherlock is his pressure point. Reviews are always appreciated and I'd love to know what you think so far. :) **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, thanks again for all the lovely reviews and comments on the previous chapters. It really means a lot; your feedback truly helps when it comes to writing this story. You're all so very kind! **

**Writing in bold and italics is John's memory/flashbacks. **

**Standard Disclaimer:**

John sat quietly in the back of a car with Mycroft Holmes on the way to Scotland Yard. Mycroft had left Anthea and a security officer with Mary and Baby Watson to ensure their safety whilst he and John went on search for Sherlock. Since entering the car, the elder Holmes brother had not said a word to John and the army doctor was beginning to feel nervous, he hated silences like this.

John fidgeted in his seat and bit his lip. He wanted to say something; anything but he didn't know what to say. If he'd never yelled at Sherlock, then Sherlock wouldn't have left the hospital and he wouldn't have gone to Irene's and well... He'd be here right now. John ran a hand through his hair. If something happened to Sherlock, he'd never forgive himself.

"If Janine is dead and Sherlock didn't do it, then what do you think happened?" John asked finally just to break the silence.

Mycroft glanced at John. "Whoever killed Janine, kidnapped Sherlock. A syringe was found at the crime scene with traces of a heavy-duty tranquilliser. Whoever killed Janine likely drugged Sherlock and kidnapped him."

John just nodded wearily. "Who do you think is behind this?" he asked. "Do you think Moriarty is actually still alive?"

Mycroft bit his lip. "I'm not sure, John."

"I think I've been getting text messages off him," said John fumbling to find his phone in his jacket pocket. "I've been getting texts signed M... Janine was signing her texts to Sherlock as JM, so I don't think it was her."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at this new information. "May I see your phone?"

John passed his phone to Mycroft and the elder Holmes read the messages from M one by one.

John took a deep breath; he needed to know and this was his opportunity to ask. "Mycroft, about the picture message?"

"Photoshop," said Mycroft without missing a beat as he continued to scroll through the text messages.

"Excuse me?" asked John.

"The image has obviously been manipulated," said Mycroft as he thumbed back through the messages returning to the photograph. "Look, first of all, the shadows are all wrong, the lighting would not permit shadows to be cast in that manner. There is evidence of a badly removed watermark here in the corner and Sherlock isn't left handed, so why would he be holding the gun like that? Also if Sherlock had received a cut like that on his temple, he'd have a scar. Does he have a scar, John?"

John took back the phone and looked at the picture again, of course it was a fake... How could he even have doubted it? When he looked at it now there were clear signs it was a photoshopped image. He'd been unable to look at the photo for too long before so he blamed that for not realising... However he felt guilty, instead of believing in Sherlock he's just instantly assumed the worst of his friend. At that moment John loathed himself. Moriarty had pulled this trick before; turning Sherlock into something he wasn't, a fake... He hadn't fallen for the lies then so why now?

_**"Moriarty's playing with your mind**_**,**_**too**_**. Can't you see what's going on?! " **

Sherlock's words from the day before the fall came crashing down on John once more... How could he have doubted Sherlock? John had allowed that message to completely change his opinion of his friend, he'd allowed himself to see the Sherlock in the photo, the fake crazed man in that stupid photo, as being the real Sherlock... John was ashamed of himself. At that moment he felt he didn't deserve the right to call Sherlock a friend.

John remembered Sherlock's best man's speech...

_**"So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing."**_

Sherlock had such a high opinion of John, Sherlock cared so much and at the first sign of trouble John had discarding him at the drop of a hat... John seriously had to fight back the urge to gouge his own eyes out. He hated himself. "He didn't kill anyone whilst he was away," said John finally in a small tone.

"No, doctor." said Mycroft not looking at John. "My brother is not some crazed killer, the only time he has ever taken a life was to protect you."

_**"John, I am a ridiculous man... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship..."**_

John looked away, unable to look Mycroft in the eye. He was right... Of course he was right, Sherlock was not some psycho killer, the only time Sherlock had ever hurt anyone, had ever taken a life had been in order to protect him, to protect Mary and what had John done? He'd told the best friend he'd ever had that his life had been better when he was dead... John felt as if he was going to be sick.

_**"Today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved - in short, the two people who love you most in all this world... We will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that." **_

"I realise of course that you were under a lot of pressure last night John," said Mycroft suddenly, "but I am sorry, for me that does not excuse your behaviour."

John continued to stare out the window. "I know," he said simply. "I'm sorry Mycroft."

"It's not me you should be apologising to John," said Mycroft pulling out his phone and glancing at a text message.

John sighed. He owed Sherlock so much more than an apology and now his best friend was... he was... well, he could be anywhere... John cursed himself for not phoning Sherlock earlier, for not trying to contact him... For letting him leave the hospital alone, for letting him think he was hated, worthless... Because he was anything but worthless... Sherlock had plenty more redeeming qualities than the friendship of a man who'd abandoned him in his hour of need... John needed to find Sherlock, he needed to explain he was wrong, that he was sorry and that there'd always be a time when he'd need the detective around, as a friend, his best friend in fact... He needed to tell Sherlock that he wasn't better off without him, that he needed him. He'd always need him. Always.

John inhaled sharply and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes to stop himself from crying. He only wished he'd find Sherlock before it was too late.

* * *

Sherlock blinked a few times and tried to clear his sight. This didn't make any sense, why would Tom be here? Sherlock looked around himself for a moment. Where exactly was here? He felt he'd been here before; it seemed familiar... It was a large dark room, a warehouse? There was also a faint smell of something sweet... He knew he'd been here before... When?

"So Mr Holmes," said Tom pulling a knife from his pocket and twirling it haphazardly in his fingers. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Sherlock blinked and looked back to face Tom. "Are you related to him too?" he asked.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Related to who?"

"Are you Moriarty's cousin too?" asked Sherlock, shaking his head in a vague attempt to rid the fuzziness from his mind. "Are you Janine's brother?"

"Do you really think I'd have killed Janine if she were my sister?"

Sherlock licked his lips and considered this for a moment. "I don't know what you're capable of," he admitted. He looked back up at Tom. "So who are you?"

Tom moved forward and traced the knife along the seam of Sherlock's shirt. "I'm no friend of yours Mr Holmes," he answered vaguely before putting pressure on the blade and slicing the skin on Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock gasped despite himself, he didn't want to show weakness but he couldn't help but react to the pain.

"I wasn't related to Jim," said Tom pulling the knife back and cleaning the blood off on Sherlock's suit jacket.

Sherlock took a few breaths and focused on Tom once more, the pain from the cut on his arm waking him up. "Then who are you?"

Tom grinned. "I knew you weren't dead," he said ignoring Sherlock's question.

"I'm sorry?"

"That day on the rooftop," he said. "I knew you hadn't died, I knew it... Nobody else would believe me. They thought I was being delusional that my... connection with Jim was clouding my thoughts but I knew you weren't dead."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "You used Molly," he deduced.

"Jim overlooked her," said Tom. "But I knew if you had faked your death the pathologist would have be useful to you."

Anger flared up in Sherlock as he realised Molly had been used for the last two and a half years... "You never loved her," he said quietly.

Tom scoffed. "Molly? Of course not, she was merely a pawn in my game."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "She loves you."

"Human error, Mr Holmes," said Tom. "And I don't really think you can take the moral high ground when it comes to using women to achieve your goals."

Sherlock looked down at his feet and noticed some shiny foil paper on the floor, it triggered some far away memory in his head... The factory. He was in the disused sweet factory he'd found the kids in the day before he jumped from Bart's... Sherlock furrowed his brow; did Moriarty's people seriously only have one kidnapping venue? And Moriarty had had the audacity to call Sherlock ordinary...

"I knew she was hiding something, obviously," said Tom continuing his speech and pulling Sherlock away from his train of thought. "She was very secretive about you, oddly so. She eventually spun me some story about not wanting to talk about you because it hurt too much. I read her journals, confiscating some of her reports from work but she was clever, very clever, of course she wouldn't actually write down anywhere that you were still alive. She seems like the ditsy type, but she is smart."

Sherlock scowled, he hated the idea that Tom had used Molly... She deserved better than that. "Why did you care so much?" asked Sherlock. "About Moriarty?"

Tom looked back up at Sherlock and for the first time Sherlock could see pure hatred burning in the other man's eyes. "Because you killed him," he said simply.

Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You murdered him," said Tom. "You realised he had you beaten so you shot him and jumped from Bart's."

"He shot himself," said Sherlock in a bored tone.

The anger in Tom's face intensified and he slapped Sherlock across the face with the back of his hand. "Jim would never have done that!" spat Tom bitterly.

Sherlock hissed at the sting of the slap and turned back to face Tom. "Well obviously you didn't know him as well as you thought you did," said the detective simply.

"I knew him, he'd never have done that to himself," said Tom once again, the anger flaring in his crazed eyes.

"Well, perhaps we shouldn't assign you to write his biography because obviously your details are a little muddled," replied Sherlock sassily.

Tom seen red and plunged his knife into Sherlock's shoulder, Sherlock gasped but didn't cry out, he wouldn't give Tom the satisfaction of knowing he'd caused that much pain.

"You took him from me!" said Tom manically, leaning his weight on Sherlock and and twisting the blade into Sherlock's shoulder further, deepening the wound. "My best... my best friend and you took him from me, you killed him!"

"I did not," Sherlock hissed. "I DID NOT KILL JAMES MORIARTY!

Tom pulled the knife from Sherlock's shoulder and took a step back. "Am I really supposed to believe the word of a man who pretended to be dead for two years?"

Sherlock grimaced and tried to ignore the burning ache in his shoulder. It took him a few moments to get his breath back. "Wh-who are you?" he asked once again, he had just about had enough of this.

Tom grinned. "Well Mr Holmes, you know me as Tom, Molly's idiot fiancé, but to Jim I was, his best friend, his partner in crime, the Watson to his Sherlock, the-

"Who are you?" barked Sherlock sick of this toying around.

Tom grinned. "My name, Mr Holmes, is Sebastian Moran."

* * *

**Leaving it here for now, I'll try and update again as soon as possible. Until then thanks again for reading, following, favouriting and reviewing! **


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